


30 Days in Falsettoland

by worrylesswritemore



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, I'm also starting this challenge in MARCH, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, it's about time i do this for these two, lol i think i'm so clever with the title, wow i can't even
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 13:49:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 34,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10108064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worrylesswritemore/pseuds/worrylesswritemore
Summary: 30 Day OTP Challenge for Marvin/Whizzer because yes, I am still trash for this pairing (what else is new).





	1. Day 1 - Holding Hands

**Author's Note:**

> As you can tell if you look at all the previous works I've created, I am pretty much 100% Whizzer/Marvin trash at this point. It's only natural that I try a shot at the 30 Day OTP Challenge (if you don't know what that is, I basically upload a chapter everyday for 30 days with a new prompt that centers around a specific pairing). These chapters will be a collection of one-shots rather than an actual, chronological story, so a lot of them will vary by Modern Times Setting, Canon, or a complete and total AU. I'll try to clarify with each chapter.  
> Anyways, enjoy!

"You doin' okay, Buddy?" Marvin expected to be asking his twelve-year-old son this question as the drop tower slowly inches up higher in the air; instead, he's patronizingly asking his boyfriend, a full grown man who is currently gripping his own padded safety bar hard enough that his knuckles are bone-white.

"I'm fine." Whizzer answers quietly through gritted teeth, refusing to look over at Marvin as he stares firmly ahead.

"Really?" Marvin prods skeptically, fighting a smile from working its way on his face.

 _"Really."_ His boyfriend snaps fiercely, but his defiant expression grows tighter as their elevation slowly increases.

"You look like you're about to cry." Marvin points out, unable to preserve the chuckle that spills from his lips. He holds a hand out to him, waving his fingers teasingly, "Wanna hold my hand?" Whizzer glares at him, but the severity of which is lessened due to the fact that he looks like he's about to puke any second now. 

It was Whizzer's own fault that he'd been suckered into going on this ride in the first place, really. They'd taken Jason to the nearest amusement park on one of Marvin's weekends, and the young boy has been a ball of energy since nine o'clock this morning. Because he made the fatal mistake of asking Jason to _just slow down for one minute, please I'm dying,_ Marvin has been the brunt of many ageist jokes for the past few hours (he tries to point out that Whizzer is only five years younger than him, but Jason is quick to bat that fact away). Due to this discrimination, Whizzer has assumed the role of Riding Partner on many of the amusement park rides, bouncing along with Jason and pretending that he hasn't amassed an overwhelming ache all over his body in result of the many jerky, vomit-inducing rides.

As they near the top, Marvin takes pity on Whizzer and murmurs lowly, "Jason already thinks you're great, Whizzer. It's not like you have anything to prove."

"I used to love these rides when I was a kid," Whizzer reveals softly, his ghostly face one of sincere devastation, "Now, I'm sweaty, and anxious, and sore, and I feel like I wanna throw up—and not in the fun way that these rides used to make me feel. What _happened?"_

"You're getting old," Marvin answers with a laugh, "But hey, it's not so bad. You would not _believe_ how much money you save with all those Senior Discounts." Whizzer snorts and, after a pause of hesitation, quickly grabs Marvin’s extended hand, all at once crushing the bones in his fingers with his vice-grip.

"I always hated this ride." Whizzer admits tightly as the ride finally reach its maximum height and pauses for the briefest second.

Marvin looks over to Jason on his right and sees his son grinning in anticipation. He dares a look back over at Whizzer and sees the man with his eyes screwed shut and lips pressed firmly together in a grimace. Before Marvin can comment on either, however, the ride dramatically plummets to the ground, earning various screams and laughs from the riders. Marvin laughs along with his son and distracts him from looking over at Whizzer, who is still frozen in place with a terrified, sick-ridden expression. The grip on Marvin's hand grows tighter and tighter as the ride continues, and when the terror is finally over, Marvin has lost all circulation on the entire left side of his body.

"That was so much fun," Jason exclaims as they exit the ride, "Let's go again!"

"No!" Whizzer and Marvin yell in unison, and that's when Jason notices their interlocked hands.

At his expression of growing suspicion, Marvin saves Whizzer from explanation by exclaiming jovially, "What? I can't embarrass my son by engaging in unnecessary PDA with my hot, young boy-toy?" He jokingly pulls Whizzer into a kiss, prompting exclamations of disgust from Jason.

"Okay, that's enough. Come on, let's just go play some games for a while." Jason trots off several feet ahead of them, seeming to forget his desire to ride the drop tower again.

As they walk to catch up with him, Whizzer turns his head and kisses Marvin's cheek, "That was sweet of you."

Marvin shrugs casually, glancing down at their intertwined hands with a soft expression, "What can I say? You bring out the best in me."


	2. Day 2 - Cuddling Somewhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marvin contemplates his morality; Whizzer just wants to go to fucking sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weirdly, this is where I'm most comfortable writing their relationship: the pre-canon 'verse.  
> Side Note: I actually don't think my characterization of Marvin is crap this time. Agree? Disagree?

Marvin wouldn't say he's a bad person necessarily. After all, he still goes to Temple every week; he works long, frustrating hours at a job he hates in order to provide food and shelter for his family; he showers his wife and son with gifts of affection; hell, he even gives a few bucks to the homeless guy on his street every other day on his way to work.

However, Marvin won't go as far as to say he's some kind of _saint_ either; that much is pretty clear as he lies breathless and naked on a familiar bed that is not his own, body spent but heart wracked with the distant echo of guilt. Whizzer is panting beside him, body splayed out on the mattress with the covers kicked away to expose his naked form. Though he knows he needs to get dressed and go home now, Marvin allows himself to gaze lustfully at his lover's body, earning a chuckle from the man himself.

"Like what you see?" Whizzer asks demurely, positioning his body in an even more lewd pose.

Marvin answers bluntly, "Yes." At his honesty, Whizzer's expression softens, and he takes Marvin's hand to interlock their fingers.

"When is she expecting you back?" He asks, his indifferent tone contrasting with his tight expression.

"Any second now," Marvin admits. He doesn't make a move to leave though; instead he leans over and buries his face in the crook of Whizzer's neck, breathing in the heavy scent of sweat, sex, and Whizzer's own unique musk that is vaguely reminiscent of sea salt. Without hesitation, Whizzer wraps his arms around Marvin, his steadying breath tickling the nape of his neck. For a long while, Marvin wastes time he doesn't have lazily tracing shapes into Whizzer's flat stomach, dreading the moment the younger man decides to stop pacifying him and kicks him out. _Don't get too attached, Marv,_ he remembers Whizzer saying once with a cruel laugh, _the only reason I'm still here is 'cause you're rich and a pretty decent fuck._ But that had been months ago, and on good days, Marvin likes to kid himself with the belief that this has somehow transformed into something deeper—maybe something actually _meaningful._

Whizzer entangles a hand in Marvin's hair, his fingers threading through the short strands and eliciting a soft noise of content from the older man. This is the only time that Whizzer is ever soft and gentle with him, after he's been screwed so hard he can't even muster up a single witty retort. Marvin likes him better like this: sweet and quiet and docile like all pretty boys should act. If only Whizzer could always be this way, but Marvin knows from experience that once the after-effects of great sex wear off, he's back to normal—the obnoxious, spitefulman that thrives off of riling Marvin up with careless, biting remarks.

Minutes pass slowly as Marvin drifts on and off into light sleep, his head cushioned on Whizzer's warm and comfy chest. He distantly notices that Whizzer's rhythm of petting his hair has slowly begun to stall, the other man fighting unconsciousness himself. Reluctantly accepting that he needs to leave soon or he won't make it home tonight at all, Marvin tries to disentangle himself from Whizzer's embrace, but he is met with firm resistance.

"What are you doing?" Whizzer demands petulantly, opening his eyes slightly to frown at him.

"I have to go back home. To my _wife."_ Marvin reminds him, not missing how Whizzer's whole body bristles.

"Finally. Don't let the door hit you on the way out." Whizzer snaps, practically shoving Marvin away and turning on his side so he's facing away from him.

Marvin ignores the stab of hurt in his chest and quickly dresses, offering a curt goodbye as he leaves the bedroom and hunts for his missing shoes. He finally finds them under the coffee table in the living room, pulling them on and tying his shoelaces as fast as he can. He's halfway to the door when he hears a quiet, _"_ Marv _."_ Marvin turns to find Whizzer leaning in the doorway of his bedroom, staring at him with a rare expression of openness and vulnerability. His hair is mussed and eyes bleary from sleep, and he looks so devastatingly young in that moment that it makes Marvin's heart constrict in his chest

"I'm leaving as fast as I can." Marvin tells him, but his own voice is lacking in spite.

Whizzer walks over to him and loosens his tie, beginning to unbutton his shirt, "Come back to bed."

Marvin shakes his head, but he doesn't stop Whizzer from pushing his shirt off and leaving himself bare-chested, "You know I can't. I have to go home. Trina is probably worried sick about me."

"Come on," Whizzer wheedles with a sweet little pout, unbuckling his belt and tugging his pants to the ground, "Please?"

Marvin sighs and finally catches Whizzer's hands when they reach for the waistband of his underwear, "Whizzer."

"Stay," Whizzer whispers against his lips, his hands coming up to cup his face, "Just a little while longer." Surrendering in defeat like the weak man that is he, he allows himself to be tugged back to bed by the Devil Incarnate. As he embraces Whizzer and feels the man relax in his arms, Marvin absently thinks to himself that he should be holding his loving wife like this rather than his loveless lover.

Okay, fine—so maybe he's a bad person. Nowadays, who isn't?


	3. Day 3 - Gaming/Watching a Movie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whizzer watches a movie with the tight-knit family but still can't seem to keep his hands to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a little mixed on this one-shot. I had another idea first, wrote that one-shot, and then hated it when I read it back after I finished. I threw this one together and don't HATE it, I guess. I'm taking the prompt liberally in this one, so bear with me.  
> WARNING: THIS HAS SUGGESTIVE CONTENT. DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU ARE TEN.

"This movie kinda sucks," Jason remarks from his position on the floor, his head propped up by his hand, "I really hope the blonde girl dies at the end of this."

Though Trina admonishes Jason for his declaration, Whizzer himself can't help but nod in agreement. He doesn't know why he decided to join this "movie night" at his secret lover's household, but Trina had seemed so _earnest_ and _hopeful_ when she invited him (and Marvin had pissed him off that morning, which had also helped the choice) so Whizzer had tentatively accepted her offer. He's whole-heartedly regretting it now as the sappy on-screen couple cry and embrace each other for the fucking millionth time. He turns his head to make a mocking remark to Marvin when he sees Trina snuggled up against him, her head resting on his shoulder. Whizzer stiffens and turns his attention back to the movie, wondering if he's a good enough actor to feign a stomach ache and go home. 

The three adults are huddled together on the couch—Marvin in the middle with Trina and Whizzer flanking each of his sides—with a large blanket shared between them. Whizzer supposes that the blanket is large enough that he didn't _have_ to be pressed closely against Marvin, but he still lessens the distance between them as much as possible regardless. Whizzer tries to pay attention to the plot of the movie, but he has to admit that he couldn't care less about what the future holds for the boring, melodramatic heterosexuals. He's more focused on Marvin and busies himself with the memory of them screwing on Whizzer's sofa last night. Whizzer becomes a little _too_ caught up in the memory and has to remind himself that there is a _child_ present, but it does little to relieve his tension. He's horny as fuck, and if Trina and Jason weren't here, Whizzer would have already been on his knees by now, tugging Marvin's pants down and—

Marvin startles when Whizzer places a hand on his knee, but he doesn't call any attention to the action. Marvin's lower body is obscured by the thick blanket, so Whizzer knows that as long as Marvin keeps it together, they won’t get caught. Slowly, Whizzer moves his hand further and further up Marvin's thigh, maintaining a straight face as he keeps his gaze firmly in the television screen. Marvin is less composed, his face becoming redder by the second and his breathing increasing. As casually as possible, Marvin pushes Whizzer's hand away firmly with a stern, warning glare. Whizzer turns and gives him an innocent look as his hand once again crawls its way to his inner thigh. Marvin mouths, _Stop it,_ to which Whizzer arches an eyebrow as if to convey, _Make me._ His hand slips down Marvin's pants, prompting a strangled noise from the older man. 

Trina finally notices her husband's discomfort and asks, "You okay, Marv?"

"I'm f—fine, Sweethe—heart," He sputters as Whizzer quickens his pace. Abruptly, Marvin shoves Whizzer's hand away and rises from his seat, careful to keep the blanket covering his crotch, "Whizzer, can I see you in the kitchen real quick?"

"Is it important?" Whizzer asks innocently, "I'm trying to watch this movie."

"It's important." Marvin declares curtly, practically dragging Whizzer into the other room.

"What do you think you're doing?" Marvin demands as he closes the door behind them. 

"You look like you have a problem there, Marv," Whizzer says flippantly with a cheeky grin, glancing down, "Want me to lend a hand?"

"Oh, you'll do more than that." Marvin hisses, shoving Whizzer to his knees, "Now make it quick. And there better not be a mess."

"You know that I'm no quitter." Whizzer reminds him slyly, opening Marvin's fly and getting to work.

:: - ::

They return to the den around fifteen minutes later, Marvin's face a little redder than usual and Whizzer hurriedly wiping his mouth.

Trina asks, "What was that about?" 

"I thought we had some popcorn left," Marvin tells her, "Whizzer and I checked the entire kitchen and couldn't find any though."

"Well, I could've told you that." Trina says with a laugh, though her eyes shift between Whizzer and Marvin with vague suspicion.

Ignoring the non-verbal argument that the couple seem to be engaged in, Whizzer flops down on the couch and asks Jason, "I miss anything?"

"She found out that her boyfriend is cheating on her," Jason informs him.

"Finally," Whizzer remarks, careful to keep his eyes locked on the televising screen, "The signs were all there. I'm surprised she didn't piece it together sooner."


	4. Day 4 - On a Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recently divorced, Marvin is nervous about his first date with a man. Because the universe hates him, it goes terribly wrong - until then it doesn't. AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter summary kinda sucks, but THE STORY IS GOOD, I PROMISE. It's also sorta long, so bonus for you guys, I guess.  
> And Cordelia is in this one (briefly but still)! Look at me trying to be inclusive of other characters!

Marvin checks his appearance in the mirror for the third time, not entirely pleased with this outfit either but knowing he's wasted enough time as it is. He runs a hand through his hair absently and subsequently curses himself for messing it up. He doesn't have time to style it again, so he surrenders to the unkempt look. When he opens the door to leave his apartment, he's shocked to find Cordelia at his door, one arm balancing a crockpot and the other raised as if readying to knock.

 _"Marvin,"_ Cordelia shrieks, almost dropping the food, "You scared the hell out of me! And here I was about to offer you some—Hey, you look _nice."_

Marvin straightens and tries not to preen, declaring with forced casualness, "I've got a date."

"Excuse me?" Cordelia demands, "And I'm just hearing about this now?"

"I'll tell you about it later," Marvin assures her, adding, "Unless it goes terribly wrong. Then we are to never speak of it again. Are we clear?"

"But I made cholent," She pouts, "I thought we would eat this, drink wine, and bitch until Charlotte came home."

"Maybe next time," He promises, sliding past her, "Now I gotta go. I have to meet him at Asbury Park in—shit, five minutes ago."

"If you're ghosting me like this, he better be cute." Cordelia calls after him.

"Trust me, he is."

:: - ::

If anyone asks, Marvin will say that he met Whizzer at a party (This is technically true, but he is omitting the part that they screwed in the bathroom after five minutes of meeting). He doesn't really think the relationship will evolve into anything more beyond this date, but given that this is his first date since his divorce, Marvin wants to prove to himself that leaving his wife and tearing his tight-knit family apart was worth it.

He finally makes it to Asbury Park twenty minutes late and panting profusely. He spots Whizzer only about a few yards away lounging on a park bench, completely absorbed in his phone. He only looks mildly annoyed, so Marvin still thinks he can salvage this evening.

"Sorry I'm late," Marvin apologizes as he jogs up to him, startling Whizzer, "I got off of work late, and I had to change, and my neighbor tried to come over—"

"It's fine," Whizzer dismisses with a wave, pocketing his phone and giving him a salacious grin, "I'm sure you can make it up to me."

 Marvin breathes out a sigh of relief and allows himself catch his breath, checking his watch, "I'm sure we can still make our reservation—"

"Reservation?" Whizzer repeats, brow furrowed, "I thought we would just go to your apartment."

"No, I don't cook," Marvin tells him with a self-deprecating laugh, "I'd much rather pay someone to serve actually good food than torture you like that."

"Uh, okay." Whizzer responds slowly, not looking any less confused even after Marvin's explanation.

"Let's go," Marvin beckons, "I hope you like Italian."

:: - ::

During the appetizers, conversation is dry and stilted. At every attempt that Marvin makes of small talk, Whizzer nods absently and picks at his piece of garlic bread, seeming lost in thought and looking somewhat uncomfortable. Marvin kicks himself for not checking if he liked Italian food, but he doubts that's the only thing putting Whizzer off. He doesn't know why Whizzer would ask him out on a date in the first place if he wasn't interested, so even though he's still trying to be engaging, Marin is starting to silently stew inside.

"So," Marvin tries once again after a lull of silence, "What do you do for a living?"

"I'm a photographer," Whizzer informs him, shrugging, "Nothing glitzy or anything. I mostly do weddings and family portraits."

"That must be lucrative." Marvin offers, prompting a nod from Whizzer. 

After a few seconds of pause, Whizzer adds, "This is awkward."

Marvin scoffs, relieved to drop the façade as he snaps, "Through no fault of my own."

Whizzer rolls his eyes, his tone dripping with disdain, "Well, _excuse me_ that I wasn't prepared for this Pretty Woman treatment."

"Really?" Marvin sneers, giving him a smirk, "You think I'm handsome enough to be Richard Gere?"

"Oh please," Whizzer says with a scoff, "You _wish_ you could be Richard Gere. I would already be on my hands and knees with my ass bared for that man."

"That's funny," Marvin bites back, "Because if I recall correctly, that's _exactly_ what happened the first time we met."

"I was horny and tipsy," Whizzer tells him, "You looked rich and hot. What else was I supposed to do?"

 _"Apparently give it up to a strange man in a dirty bathroom!"_ Marvin exclaims. Whizzer looks like he's about to retort when a distinct clearing of a throat breaks them out of their reverie. They both turn to find their waiter, red-faced and scandalized.

"I, uh—don't mean to interrupt," He sputters, averting his eyes, "But are you men ready to order?"

"Oh, yes, sorry," Whizzer says hurriedly, glancing at the menu, "I'll have the Shrimp Carbonara and a bowl of Ribollita."

"I'll have the Guanciale. And," He looks to Whizzer, "More wine?"

He nods, "Yes, please." 

The waiter takes their menus and nods, practically running away from their table. Marvin and Whizzer make eye-contact for a solid three seconds before both men collapse in laughter, the waiter's horrified expression engrained in their minds.

"How much do you think he heard?" Marvin asks, still fighting to retain his composure.

Whizzer struggles to suppress his snickering, "Well, he definitely heard the bathroom comment. God, that was _priceless."_

Marvin smiles and drains the rest of his glass, asking, "So what else can we fight about and scandalize the entire room?"

:: - ::

Dinner is more or less a success after that, Marvin and Whizzer filling any awkward pauses with ridiculous but endlessly fiery debates. After forking over the insane price for the meals, Marvin proposes a quiet walk around the city, a suggestion that Whizzer snorts derisively at but goes along with anyway.

"You're insane," Whizzer announces, "We're probably going to get mugged."

"Why do you say that?"

"We're the perfect targets," Whizzer explains, "Two gay guys—one obviously loaded, the other obviously a kept pretty boy. Actually, scratch that— _you'll_ be mugged, _I'll_ be sexually assaulted."

"I'm not that rich," Marvin denies feebly, "I'm more smart than anything."

"Jury's still out on that one." Whizzer mocks, snickering when Marvin flicks him in the back of the head.

"Hey, you don't like baseball," Whizzer points out, "How smart can you _be?"_

"Well, given that the only baseball I've ever really watched is my son's little league team of scrawny Jewish kids," Marvin admits, "I don't find the appeal whatsoever."

"Your son?" Whizzer repeats sharply, "You have a kid?" _And wow, nice going, Marv; that was a great piece of information to bring up on a date._

"Yeah, his name's Jason," Marvin tells him, "He's not my biggest fan right now; however that's probably because I just told him I was gay and left his mother, so I'm hoping that eventually we'll be able to move past it soon."

"Uh—Wow, that's a lot to process," Whizzer confesses after an uncomfortably long pause, adding in soft-spoken amazement, "You have a family."

"That was weird to bring up on a first date, huh?" Marvin laughs anxiously, "Maybe I should've led with that—"

"Whoa, whoa, hold up." Whizzer demands, stopping in his tracks and staring at him with wide eyes, "This— _This is a date?"_

"Well, yeah," Marvin affirms with a laugh, brow furrowing in confusion, "Unless you've changed your mind."

"No, this has never been a date," Whizzer persists, looking almost horrified, "Marvin, I don't _do_ dates. I thought that was obvious."

Marvin shakes his head defiantly, pointing out, "But at the party you asked me out."

"I said we should ‘hang out’ sometime," Whizzer corrects him, his voice getting higher and more incredulous by the second, "Marvin, that meant I wanted to _fuck you_ again, not _date you."_ His face dawns with understanding, "So that's why you took me out to dinner. I've been trying to figure that out. I was wondering if this was some sort of roleplaying kink you had."

"Oh my god, _Of course,"_ Marvin covers his face with his hand, unable to look at him, "Of course my first date with a man, and you were never even _interested!"_

"Well, I wouldn't say _not interested;_ I've been thinking about your dick all night long," Whizzer offers with a grin, pausing before adding with a laugh, "Wait, this was your _first_ date with a guy? Oh man, this is _hilarious."_

"No, it's not." Marvin says curtly, "It is the exact _opposite_ of anything _close_ to hilarity. Here, let's just—let's just go, okay? I'll take you back to your place."

"Oh, come on," Whizzer says, catching up with Marvin as he storms back to his car, "Don't be like that. The night's young; we can still have some fun."

"Maybe another time," Marvin snaps, "I think I've made enough of a fool of myself for tonight."

Whizzer rolls his eyes and remains quiet as they walk back to his car, but his brow is furrowed as if he's internally debating something. Marvin doesn't really give a damn anymore; he's probably never going to see the man again anyway after this large blow to his pride. The car ride is silent save for Whizzer giving directions to his apartment building. As he parks on the street, he expects Whizzer to book it out of there as soon as he unlocks the door. He's surprised when just the opposite happens; Whizzer doesn't move at all, staring at Marvin with a firm, determined expression on his pretty face.

"Well," Marvin breaks the silence awkwardly, "I guess this is—" Whizzer cuts him off by diving in and crashing their lips together. Marvin tenses at first before eventually melting into the kiss, cupping Whizzer's face and licking deeper into the man's mouth. Whizzer unbuckles himself and straddles Marvin, uncaring to how cramped it is as he starts pressing wet kisses to his neck. They stay like this for several minutes before Whizzer finally pulls away, his lips and eyes shining in the dim lighting. 

"I'd invite you in," Whizzer says hoarsely, his face akin to that of a predator, "But I don't put out on the first date." As he processes his words, Whizzer takes Marvin's phone and programs his phone number in.

"Call me," Whizzer tells him, adding cheekily, "And take me out for drinks next time, yeah? This isn't the seventies; you don't need to wine and dine a guy to get in his pants."

Marvin clears his throat, "Duly noted."

Whizzer gives him another wicked grin before finally sliding out of the car, casting one last look over his shoulder before he disappears in his apartment building. Marvin slams his head against the driver's headrest and wonders if he has the energy to date a hurricane like Whizzer Brown.

"How was your hot date?" Cordelia asks him the next morning.

"Awful," Marvin admits, his phone buzzing from yet another text from Whizzer, "'Delia, I think I'm in love."


	5. Day 5 - Kissing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marvin loves kissing; Whizzer doesn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is super short, but hey, it's still pretty good.

It's not that Whizzer hates kissing, per se. He admits that it can be hot and fucking amazing as foreplay, but to think of it as just an isolated event rather than a lead up for something greater like sex or even a blowjob —it sounds, well, _boring._ Whizzer can't imagine spending hours of just swapping spit with someone when they could potentially spend hours swapping  _other fluids,_ if you get his drift. Luckily, his hook-ups have agreed with this line of reasoning as they all have collectively agreed to never start something they don't intend to finish.

Marvin, Whizzer discovers, is not on the same page as everyone else. Most of the time, he does it absently—a peck on the cheek here and then, a chaste smack of the lips when he's feeling cheeky, a sweet kiss goodbye. It doesn't inconvenience Whizzer too much (just prompt him to roll his eyes and push him away), so he lets those slide without any complaint on his end.

It's the intentional, drawn out sessions that he hates. Marvin will kiss him—sometimes sweet and gentle, other times rough and needy—and begin taking him apart with his mouth, nibbling and licking and _biting_ and making Whizzer an incoherent mess. Then, he'll pull back, batting Whizzer's hands away from his belt and saying, "Not tonight." It's frustrating, and if Whizzer didn't know any better, he would think Marvin does it just to piss him off.

But really, he knows the truth: Marvin just loves kissing. He loves holding Whizzer's face and breathing him in, relishes the quiet noises made in the back of Whizzer's throat that he tries to smother. He loves taking things slow, coaxing Whizzer in his adrenaline rush to _"Just slow down. Take it easy. I'll take care of you."_  Hell, Whizzer wouldn't even call it making out; at least that's heated and fast and usually provides _friction_ that he so desperately craves.

No, Marvin loves _kissing,_ the most innocent form of debauchery that exists. Whizzer mocks him for it but never really presses the issue. Why, you may ask?

"Come here," Marvin beckons, pulling a petulant Whizzer in and molding their lips together. Whizzer pretends to be disgruntled, hoping Marvin doesn't notice how he slowly relaxes and sighs into the older man's mouth.

Because maybe Whizzer has developed a soft spot for kissing, too.


	6. Day 6 - Wearing Each Others' Clothes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whizzer has a fashion emergency, and Marvin provides no solace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is soooo short; sorry about that.  
> (Also, I know that in this story, Whizzer is wearing Marvin's clothes but Marvin isn't wearing any of Whizzer's and that may be not following the prompt, but CUT ME SOME SLACK).

"Whizzer, hurry up. We gotta get back to the party." Marvin reminds him, leaning against his car as a flurry of motion is seen through the windows. 

 _Finally,_ Whizzer exits the vehicle, pouting and crossing his arms in an attempt to shield his torso, "This is ridiculous. The amount of times I've gotten naked in the back of this car, and you do not have a _single_ shirt of mine?"

"That's your own fault," Marvin counters, "You never leave your clothes anywhere except finely pressed in your closet." He tries to move Whizzer's arms, "Seriously? You picked my old Beach Boys shirt?"

"It's the only thing I could pull off by saying it's vintage," Whizzer snaps, gazing down at how the material essentially swallows his entire upper body, "God, now I look like an asshole that wears a band shirt to an engagement party." He brings out his puppy-dog eyes now, pulling Marvin into a hug, "Can we _please_ go home? I'll change _really_ quickly, I promise; they won't even realize we were gone."

"No," Marvin says firmly, "We're thirty minutes away—and that's not even _considering_ the traffic. The party is halfway over anyway."

"I'm sure Charlotte and Cordelia won't mind," Whizzer pleads, "This is a fashion _emergency,_ Marv. What if I dropped dead right here? People's lasting memory of the Great Whizzer Brown would be me in this ill-fitting _travesty."_

"Well, that's a little dramatic."

"I never wear anything that I wouldn't gladly die in." Whizzer tells him somberly, and given all that Marvin already knows quite well about the man, he believes him.

"Shouldn't have spilled red wine all over your shirt then," Marvin reminds him, causing Whizzer to scoff and push him away.

"We can stay for fifteen minutes," Whizzer says icily, sauntering back to the party, "Then we're leaving. I'll explain it to Cordelia; at least _she'll_ give me some sympathy."

"Fine. And Whizzer?" When Whizzer throws a look over his shoulder at him, Marvin grins and admits cheekily, "I think you look _really_ hot in my clothes."

"Really now?" Whizzer prompts boastfully, a smile working its way on his features, "Thirty minutes then, but you better make it worth my while."

Marvin catches up with him and slaps his ass, "Don't I always?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Yes, I may have implied that it was Charlotte and Cordelia's engagement party - not sorry).


	7. Day 7 - Cosplaying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whizzer is sober and trying to have a serious conversation with his boyfriend. Marvin is drunk and trying to flirt with Whizzer using Star Wars pick-up lines. Obviously, there seems to be a serious miscommunication.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marvin is a huge Star Wars fanboy - That's canon now, sorry I don't make the rules.

"Aren't you a little _sexy_ for a storm trooper?" Whizzer doesn't even have to turn around to know Marvin is right behind him, _probably_ a little tipsy and most _definitely_ wearing that idiotically smug grin of his.

He doesn't know why he agreed to go to this stupid costume party when it wasn't even _Halloween,_ but Charlotte and Cordelia had _begged_ and Marvin _really_ wanted to go...

He's become such a pushover. His folks are probably turning over in their graves.

"I thought I was Luke Sky-whatever," Whizzer points out as he turns to face him, "At least, that's what I've been telling people."

"Luke _Skywalker."_ Marvin reaffirms, shaking his head like _Whizzer_ is the embarrassment here.

Whizzer rolls his eyes and finishes his (sadly not spiked) glass of punch, "Yeah, yeah, whatever. You know, when I said we should try role-playing, this is _not_ what I had in mind."

Marvin ignores his attempt at having a normal conversation and leans into him, whispering seductively, "Honey, I think you've been looking for love in Alderaan places."

"I can't tell if you're making a joke or slurring your words because you're drunk," Whizzer pauses, "Knowing you, it's probably both. Where did you get alcohol anyway? I've been unhappily sober ever since I got here."

Marvin shrugs, "Charlotte and I were doing shots in the kitchen a few minutes ago." 

_"Without me?"_

"Listen, Whizzer, I may be Han," Marvin begins, gesturing to his costume, "But I won't shoot first."

Whizzer stares blankly at him, "Am I supposed to be swooning or something?"

"You're no fun," Marvin complains, "I'm trying to flirt with you, and you're being a dick. Maybe I should go flirt with someone else."

Whizzer laughs, "Oh god, _please_ do that. That'd be _hilarious."_

"Hey, I'm Han Solo," Marvin exclaims with emphasis, like that _means_ something, "I can get any princess I want."

"Oh no, get that costume off quick," Whizzer says with feigned panic, "It's turning you into a—dare I say, _heterosexual."_

Marvin scoffs, grabbing Whizzer's hips and pulling him close, "Don't worry about that. Have you _seen_ yourself tonight? You're looking tastier than a cherry pie."

"Why do you always compare me to pastries?" Whizzer wonders, "Is there some underlying food kink you're not telling me about?"

"We should have sex." Marvin proposes casually, and fuck, where did all the romance go in their relationship? Yesterday they fought about whose turn it was to wash the dishes, and now _this?_

But as Marvin leans heavily on Whizzer's side when he says goodbye to an equally inebriated Charlotte and thoroughly amused Cordelia, Whizzer can't say he necessarily minds how comfortable they've gotten with each other. It's not any less passionate than it was in the beginning, but it has grown quite sweeter in the last year. And it's not like Whizzer's complaining (for once).

"Wait, Whizzer," Marvin says worriedly as Whizzer shuts their apartment door and deposits Marvin on the couch, "I feel a great disturbance."

Thinking he'd somehow injured himself, Whizzer crouches down and demands, "What's wrong? Do I need to go get Charlotte or—"

"Whizzer, listen," Marvin hushes him, placing a finger to Whizzer's lips, "I feel a great disturbance.... _in my pants."_

"I hate you."


	8. Day 8 - Shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Whizzer gets possession of Marvin's debit card, Marvin soon learns to never scorn Whizzer Brown again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know these one-shots have been super short lately, but tomorrow's will be SUPER long, I promise (It's also a college AU, which I'm very excited about).

Marvin feels the weight of his wallet sadly lessen as Whizzer buzzes around the shopping outlet like a kid in a candy store, grabbing various apparel off the shelves and depositing them in the rapidly filling cart. When Marvin (as a sort of apology for blowing up at Whizzer the night before) offered his boyfriend free range of his debit card for an hour, he expected a healthy dent in his bank account, but he didn't expect Whizzer to be so _cruel._ Whizzer still has twenty minutes left, and Marvin can already foresee himself on a street corner in a cardboard box. 

In an effort to save his declining finances, Marvin slides up to Whizzer and embraces him from behind, murmuring in his ear, "You know, I've been really looking forward to that make-up sex. Wanna see if you have some sort of latent exhibitionist kink?"

"Maybe later, Marv," Whizzer says dismissively, as if barely hearing him, "But right now, I'm going to go look at their new collection of watches." Marvin groans as Whizzer saunters away, helplessly following him and vowing to never scorn the man again.

When time is finally up, Whizzer forces Marvin accompany him to the check-out line, the cost increasing rapidly with every barely affordable purchase scanned. Halfway through, Marvin can't stand it anymore, giving Whizzer his wallet and waiting morosely in the car. Whizzer joins him ten minutes later, four large shopping bags in his hands and a happy grin on his face that almost makes the lost money worth it.

Almost.

Whizzer opens his mouth, but Marvin shushes him, "The less I know of the cost, the better." Feeling like maybe that was a bit too mean, Marvin adds, "As long as you're happy, I'm happy."

"I got you something." Whizzer tells him with a crooked grin as he digs in one of the bags.

"You mean _I_ got _myself_ something," Marvin points out, muttering, "How thoughtful of me."

"Oh, shut up, you big baby. Ah, here it is!" He holds it out to Marvin, eyes searching the older man's face for his reaction.

"It's a necklace. That's thoughtful," He turns it over, reading the engraved words, "'Whizzer Brown owns my ass.' Well, that's...accurate."

Whizzer laughs and kisses his cheek, "You should hurt my feelings way more often. This kicks ass. Now let's go to that expensive Mexican place downtown for lunch. Swiping that card of yours so many times gave me a workout."

Marvin smiles at him tightly, "Yes, Dear."


	9. Day 9 - Hanging Out With Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whizzer thinks he knows Marvin - he's hateful and arrogant and everything Whizzer despises in a man, but one night of irresponsible drinking and accidentally stumbled upon revelations might change his entire perspective. College AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is SO LONG compared to the ones I've been writing, so enjoy! The writing gets a little choppy in some places, but overall, I'm quite happy with this one-shot.  
> NOTE: THIS STORY DEPICTS DRINKING AND DRIVING. HEY, DON'T DO THAT IRL BECAUSE YOU WILL PROBABLY EITHER DIE OR GET ARRESTED. JUST BECAUSE IT DIDN'T END BADLY IN THIS FIC DOESN'T MEAN IT WON'T END BAD FOR YOU.

"—And then the bastard has the nerve to tell me that I gave the customer too much salsa for their chips— _too much salsa!_  I mean, what kind of complaint is that? Sorry I'm a fucking good person for not making the guy fork over ten cents for an additional scoop." As her tone grows more rapid and spiteful, Cordelia's cheeks become a scarlet red, though Whizzer is torn between blaming that on her anger or the third shot of straight whiskey she just did.

"Kill him." Whizzer tells her solemnly, causing her to balk.

_"No."_

Whizzer shrugs, suggesting vainly, "Blow him?" Cordelia looks even more scandalized at the thought, so he throws up his hands in defeat.

"Hey, those two are my only go-to pieces of advice when people come to me with a problem," He admits before he scans the crowd again, adding, "Shouldn't Charlotte be back by now? Surely she's done taking a piss."

"Do you think she locked herself in the bathroom again?"

"That was one time and I was high, so it doesn't count." At the appearance of her stern tone, Whizzer straightens his posture but Cordelia only giggles.

They turn to see Charlotte blazing her way through the throngs of inebriated college students, explaining brightly, "I ran into some familiar faces and brought them over." Following close behind her, Mendel and Trina ( _just Trina and Mendel,_  Whizzer dares to hope) grin and wave excitedly at the pair. At their presence, Whizzer's mood almost picks up until—like he'd been dreading yet expecting— _Marvin_  finally emerges from the crowd as well, lagging behind the trio with his hands shoved in his jeans and head held high.

Though Cordelia claps her hands together excitedly and runs over to Charlotte and the new three faces, Whizzer just stands aside, not so much as smiling as _sneering_. It's not that he believes Cordelia and Charlotte shouldn't have other friends (sure, he's selfish, but he's not  _psychotic_ ); he even gets along with Mendel and Trina well enough. No, it's Marvin he can't stand— _Marvin,_ the pompous, condescending prick that looks at Whizzer like he's gum stuck to the bottom of his two-hundred dollar trainers;  _Marvin_ —the type of person who only laughs at his own jokes and brings a ninety-nine cent bag of chips to a potluck and believes everyone should cater to his every whim and  _got Whizzer kicked out of their philosophy class on the first day of their freshman year when a "fun and educational" debate exercise almost led to a fist fight._

Yeah, maybe he's still a little bitter about that.

"Who wears their letterman to a party?" Whizzer snorts into his cup of beer derisively, directing the comment at Cordelia but still making his voice loud enough to reach Marvin. The boy sneers at him, but Whizzer notices that his dig causes him to pick at his sleeves anxiously. He manages to catch his eye again and throw him a wink, laughing slightly as Marvin grimaces and narrows his eyes.

"You just missed the harrowing tale of my workplace hell." Cordelia informs them dramatically.

"Well, as you regale them the gory details," Whizzer says, shaking his now empty cup, "I'm going to get a refill."

"Oh, Marv, can you go get me one?" Trina asks nicely, causing Marvin to roll his eyes but comply.

As they walk together to the kitchen, Marvin shrugs and says almost off-handedly, "I'm surprised you're still here. Usually by now, you're off blowing some guy that smiled at you."

Having already learned that the best way to get Marvin to shut up is flirt with him, Whizzer just gives him a lecherous smile, "I was waiting for you, Sweetheart. What're your plans later tonight?" 

Marvin's face twists, and it's then that Whizzer notices that his eyes are a little too bright and his pace slightly teetering ( _started partying earlier then, I see_ ), "Why do you say things like that?"

"Because I'm hopelessly in love with you. Why else?" Whizzer deadpans, rolling his eyes.

And finally, that's when this Marvin transforms into one that he's used to, a superior smirk gracing his face as he says mockingly, "Well, I'm glad you've finally admitted it to yourself. You know, they say self-awareness is the first step."

Whizzer snorts, "You're one to talk about self-awareness. When's the last time you actually  _stopped_  talking when people looked disinterested?" Marvin scowls but doesn't respond as they finally make it to the kitchen and fill two cups of beer.

Whizzer stares at Marvin out of the corner of his eye and notices that the man is clearly in edge tonight. His shoulders, normally squared, are slumped over, his body turning within itself rather than trying to fill up the room like usual. Marvin has always been a little unkind, but he seems downright _mean_  tonight, his features just a landscape of sharp and twisted edges.

More out of curiosity than concern, Whizzer asks, "What's up with you?"

"What do you mean?" Marvin grumbles, downing half of Trina's cup.  _You look so sad,_  Whizzer wants to say, but he doesn't dare let Marvin think he's actually worried about him. 

"You look like you want to fling yourself off of the nearest building." Whizzer phrases carefully. Marvin looks taken aback at his words, but he quickly shakes it off, acting flippant and causal even though his posture is now ramrod straight and shoulders pushed back.

"I'm fine," He assures him tightly, glancing over at him with apprehensive eyes, "Why do _you_ care anyway?"

"I don't," Whizzer protests, shrugging, "I was just gonna suggest some apartment complexes that have high drops if you were interested."

Marvin smiles sardonically, "How sweet of you." 

Ignoring the tension building in the room, Whizzer takes a sip of his beer and feels the fizz coat his upper lip. He goes to wipe it off with his sleeve, but Marvin beats him to it. His thumb slowly,  _deliberately_  swipes across his lip, startling Whizzer as he stands rooted to the tiled floor. Marvin hesitates to pull back, letting his finger linger on the other man's lips.

"You have a nice mouth," He murmurs absently, as if unaware he’s voicing these thoughts aloud, "It's really distracting, you know that?" Whizzer swallows hard and opens his mouth to respond, but Marvin is already shoving past him on his way out of the kitchen. _Well, that was…bizarre._

Shaking himself out of his momentary reverie, Whizzer quickly boxes that moment away into the back of his mind and resolves to think about it later. Right now, he's drunk and his friends are here and he just wants to have a good time. He'll deal with Marvin's weird mood swings later.

:: - ::

Somehow, Mendel gets the key to the host's locked basement, and they all spread out languidly on the collection of comfy sofas and recliners. Cordelia and Charlotte take possession of the small love-seat, cuddling close to one another and being  _cute_  and  _in love_  (and making Whizzer sick to his stomach). Marvin and Trina are on the slightly bigger couch opposite of them, putting as much distance between each other as possible (which is strange due to the fact that they're kinda dating and all but whatever). Mendel is sat at Trina's feet, smiling and gazing up at her like a lovesick schoolboy. In the very middle of all of them, Whizzer is splayed out on his back on the wooden coffee table, pleasantly buzzed and laughing along with his friends and feeling so fucking _content_. He listens avidly as Charlotte recounts the time they all got wasted and tried to break into a cemetery, his heart constricting when he realizes that these days—of getting drunk and playing games and having fun—are almost behind them, their senior year of college looming over each of them like a dark, foreboding sky.

"Hey, I have an idea!" Cordelia announces grandly, wildly waving her now empty beer bottle around, "Let's play spin the bottle!" 

"Are you kidding me? This isn't the _seventies_ ," Marvin laughs, though his voice is slightly off, "I didn't know people still played that game."

Always one to contradict Marvin, Whizzer rises to his feet, "That's because no one ever wanted to play it with you."  He looks to Cordelia, giving her an encouraging smile, "I'm always game for generating jealousy and internal conflict that will potentially ruin friendships."

"No, let's play seven minutes in heaven." Trina suggests instead.

"That's no fun," Whizzer complains, pouting, "Then it'll be just the couples that get action. I'm lonely and horny. Cut me some slack!"

"We'll combine both, okay?" Mendel says, always the peacekeeper of the group. It takes a few more minutes to convince the entire group (by that, he means Marvin), but finally the six people sit and form a circle on the floor, an ominous bottle in the middle of them (And in all honesty, this is a pretty  _terrible_  idea, but hey, when you're drunk and bored, even bad ideas sound like  _great_  ideas).

Whizzer spares a single glance around the circle, surprised to find Marvin's gaze trained on him. He arches an eyebrow at him, prompting Marvin to look away and clear his throat, "Well, let's get this over with."

"I guess I'll go first." Mendel says nervously, side-eying Trina as he carefully spins the bottle. It teeters  _just_  past Trina and lands on Charlotte, who laughs and yanks Mendel up by the collar.

"Let's go, Hot Stuff." Charlotte says with faux-seductiveness.

"You better keep those hands above the waist!" Cordelia laughably calls after Mendel. The rest of the game goes on like this, obviously no one taking the game seriously as all of them take the seven minutes to talk privately with their so-called "partner." Whizzer himself gets Trina and Mendel once and Cordelia twice, and he soon notices that everyone is quickly losing interest in the juvenile game. 

"Okay, one more time," Cordelia announces, "Marvin, you get the last go."

Marvin nods and grips the bottle, letting a foreboding pause release in the room before giving it a healthy twist and letting it spin. The six watch with baited breaths as it turns to  _Trina, Mendel, Whizzer, Cordelia, Charlotte, Trina, Mendel—_

Whizzer stares wide-eyed at the bottle now directed at him, ignoring the gasps and snickers that resound from the group. He quickly regains his composure and gets to his feet, holding his hand out to Marvin and wiggling his fingers, "I guess we'll see  _how_  straight you are, huh?" He means it as a joke, but Marvin doesn't laugh. 

Instead, he bats Whizzer's hand away and rises to his feet, both his expression and voice void of all emotion, "Just promise that this isn't a plot to get me alone so you can murder me."

"Come on, Marv," Whizzer cajoles sweetly, "You know that I'm a  _lover,_ not a  _fighter._ Or, well, you'll know soon enough."

Everyone shares a laugh as Marvin and Whizzer both shuffle to the closet. As Whizzer closes the door behind them, he immediately winces at the sudden darkness. He fumbles around for the string hanging in the air, pulling it and sighing in relief as the room fills with a least a little light. Cramped in such a small space, Whizzer feels Marvin's body heat radiating from him, the two men only about a foot away from each other. He didn't feel so awkward before when he was with the others, but right now, every inch of his body is on high alert. The tension is so thick and heavy in the air, it's almost like Whizzer can taste it, the sour, bitter flavor sitting poignant on his tongue. 

He sighs and finally turns to face Marvin, deciding to cut through the bullshit, "Marv, you know we don't have to—" Marvin nearly flings himself at Whizzer, knocking him back until he's pressed up against the wall and crashing their lips together. And well, this was...unexpected. Whizzer places his palms on Marvin's chest to push him off of him, but then Marvin flicks his tongue  _just right_  and his hands end up wadded in that damn letterman jacket instead. _Oh, fuck._ Deciding to just roll with it and blame everything on his alcohol consumption of the night, Whizzer starts responding, tilting his head in order to deepen the kiss.  _Damn, maybe this is why Trina puts up with so much of his shit,_ he thinks distantly, remaining receptive yet pliant under Marvin's rough grasp. It's only when Marvin cups his face _tenderly_ like they're in some fucking teen movie that Whizzer tries to take charge, biting Marvin's lip and roughly smashing their lips together. Marvin fucking _melts_ into him, making small noises in the back of his throat that causes Whizzer to snicker. Marvin abruptly pulls back, his heated glare vitiated by how completely _debauched_ he looks. Wanting to get the show back on the road, Whizzer rolls his hips and brings their mouths back together.

After what seems like hours, Whizzer pushes Marvin away, saying breathlessly, "Why haven't they called time yet?"

It's as if Marvin finally remembers how they got here in the first place; his eyes widen and his voice becomes panicked, "Do you think they heard anything?"

"What, like you moaning like a two-cent whore?" Whizzer laughs as Marvin shoves him hard, "It's fine, Marv. Let's just give it a few minutes before we walk back out. They're probably just trying to wind us up by not calling time."

"Okay." He vainly tries to regain his composure, fixing his mussed hair and letting the blush fade from his face. Whizzer tries to catch Marvin’s eye but the man resolutely avoids his gaze, unwilling to take responsibility for what just happened between them.

Deciding to be the adult of the two, Whizzer sighs and lays a hand on Marvin's shoulder, "Marv, do you need to talk about—"

"There's nothing to talk about," His voice is like ice, but his eyes are a furnace, "We played the fucking game. End of story."

Whizzer scowls, every sympathy for the closeted man vanishing, " _Fine._ Be alone in your _pathetic_ self-delusions."

Marvin lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand though his hair, "Whizzer—" But Whizzer doesn't let him finish, pushing the door open and ready to forget this even happened. He walks back into a now deserted basement, their friends nowhere in sight.

"Where did everyone go?" 

"What do you mean?" Marvin asks, but Whizzer doesn't respond. He walks up the stairs and finds the latch done up again.

"Did they lock us in here or something?" He wonders, "What _assholes_." He unlocks the door and flees, ignoring Marvin's indignant cries for him to stop. When he’s a safe distance away from the other man, Whizzer pulls out his phone and finds eleven texts and five missed calls from Cordelia. He quickly calls her back, "Where the hell are you guys?"

"The host found us and kicked us out. Apparently the whole  _'do not enter'_  sign really meant  _'do not enter.'_ " She tells him, "So we went to the 7-11 that's about four miles away. Are you and Marvin still at the party?"

"Uh,  _yeah."_

"We tried to warn you guys, but the bitch wanted us out as soon as possible—wouldn't even let us explain that there were more of us down there. Then we tried calling both of you, but neither of you would respond." There's a pause as he hears distant voices and a flurry of motion from the other line before Cordelia adds, "Hey, Trina is freaked out. Can you get Marv on the phone to calm her down?"

"We split ways as soon as we could," He answers stiffly, "I don't know where he is."

"Well, find him," Cordelia tells him, "We all took Charlotte's van over here, so Marv's truck is still there. Hitch a ride with him and meet us over here."

Whizzer hesitates, trying to think of some sort of excuse but eventually affirming weakly, "Sounds like a plan then."

By the time he finds Marvin, the man is already near his truck and arguing heatedly with someone in the phone, "What, did you think I  _died_  or something? It's not that big of a deal, Trina. Jesus, you don't have to know where I'm at _all the time_. Can you not take a single breath without me right beside you?" Hearing Marvin’s clear berating of the poor girl, Whizzer's stomach twists as he remembers quite distinctly that Marvin, despite his charm and good looks, is not a nice person. But hell, neither is Whizzer, so who the fuck is he to judge?

His focus on Trina slips as soon as he spots Whizzer walking toward him, cutting her off with a curt, "I'll see you in literally five minutes."

"Trouble in paradise?" Whizzer mocks as Marvin slips his phone back in his pocket.

"Same old, same old." Marvin responds with a shrug as he climbs into his truck, "Let's go. Took you long enough to get here."

The ride is shadowed in awkward silence for a few minutes before Whizzer finally blurts out, "So, are you, like, gay or something?"

"That's none of your business," Marvin hisses, adding darkly, "But  _no."_ His tone is one of clear desperation and anger, a man clinging to a false sense of identity that had been stapled to his skin since birth. 

Whizzer sighs, leaning his head back against the headrest, "I think I should've drove. You're drunk and emotional. That's not a good combo."

"We're fine," Marvin points to the lit sign that stands out sharply of the dark surroundings, "See, we're already here." As Marvin pulls into the parking lot and cuts the engine, Whizzer tries to open his door and leave as fast as possible, but Marvin roughly grabs him by the arm. He opens his mouth to say something but stops himself, his face mirroring the internal struggle that seems to be waging within him.

Whizzer rolls his eyes, demanding, "Spit it out already."

"You won't tell anyone." He doesn't phrase it as a question nor demand but as a simple  _fact,_ adding, "I mean, you could, but no one would believe you anyway; I'll make  _sure_ of it."

Whizzer snorts, "Are you threatening me, Big Boy?"

"I'm making sure we understand each other." Marvin corrects him icily, "Besides, nothing _really_ happened.  _We played the game;_ that's it." At first glance, he seems more composed than he was in the basement, as if he had finally gathered his bearings. But then Whizzer looks closer and sees a muscle jumping in his jaw, his knuckles bleached white from gripping the steering wheel as hard as he can—he is the very opposite of calm and collected right now, and Whizzer feels the urge to push him even further, wind him up and see where he goes.

Just because he can, Whizzer lays a hand on Marvin's knee, "That's it, huh?" He expects him to shove him away and affirm his resolve like a good little straight boy, but Marvin  _hesitates._ He's staring down the barrel of a gun, and like the weak bastard that he is, he _blinks._ Sensing an opportunity, Whizzer begins slowly stroking his thigh. He watches fixated in the pale lighting as Marvin slowly crumbles within himself, obviously torn between sticking to his life-long plan of repression (and unhappiness) and allowing himself this one sweet reprieve.

"Well, I mean—“ He looks down at Whizzer’s wandering hand, swallowing hard and continuing thickly, “I guess it doesn't... _have_  to be it. If you—If you want."

See, right now, Whizzer's supposed to be the  _nice guy_ —tell him that while he's flattered and all, getting into any sort of sexual relationship with him would be  _wrong_  and  _irresponsible_.  _You have a girlfriend,_ he'd remind him, grasping his shoulder and giving him a significant look,  _after everything you've been through together, you can't do this to her._ He's supposed to help him along this journey of sexual identity by being a simply _platonic_ mentor who watches out for him and lets him discover his own sexuality in his _own_ way and time. Whizzer's supposed to  _not_  take advantage of a sad, lonely man who has no idea what he wants.

But Whizzer is _not_ a nice guy, which is why he disregards all these supposed-to’s and leans in, tightening his grip on Marvin’s thigh and giving him a wicked smile, “You and I are going to have  _so much_ fun together, Marv."


	10. Day 10 - With Animal Ears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You're enough."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT: DUE TO POPULAR DEMAND, A SEQUEL TO THE COLLEGE AU POSTED LAST CHAPTER WILL BE ON DAY 12 (And maybe turned into a full-fledged story after this, idk yet; I'm undecided). So yeah, have that to look forward to.  
> This one-shot is set in the canon 'verse sometime during Marvin and Whizzer's tumultuous relationship that lasted nine (ten?) months before they broke up. There is an OC in here, but he's merely a plot device.

Marvin downs the shot in front of him and motions the bartender for another one. Feeling a little insecure under the bartender’s judgmental gaze, he squares his shoulder and tries to appear as gruff as possible, but his efforts to assert his masculinity are mitigated by the black cat ears perched on his head ( _it's either_ _this or go full costume,_ Whizzer had compromised with him). But as he looks around at all the grinding queers on the orange-lit dance floor, Marvin at least has comfort in the knowledge that he's the manliest guy in  _here_ anyway.

 _God,_ he almost wishes Jason hadn't decided that he was "too old" for trick-or-treating this year; at least then he'd have a viable excuse to hide behind when Whizzer begged him to spend the evening at this raunchy night club on "Hallo _weenier_  Night." Suddenly, his stomach boils in hot rage and jealousy when he thinks of Whizzer, who had already abandoned Marvin to grind with some asshole who bought him a drink.  _We're not exclusive, Marv,_ Whizzer is always quick to remind him, but that's not necessarily true, is it?  _Whizzer_  isn't exclusive, sure, but _Marvin_ sure as hell is.  _Hell, maybe I_ should _go home with someone else for once,_  Marvin thinks vainly to himself, the alcohol and spite in his system impairing his judgement. It's a mere idle thought, not one that he really intends to act on.

"This one's on me," A smooth, southern voice declares as a man sits down in the seat beside him, pushing away Marvin's bill away to thrust his own forward.

"Trust me, I can afford it on my own." Marvin grumbles, causing the man to laugh.

"I don't doubt it, Sweetheart, but this is my only opening when I want a handsome man to pay attention to me." Marvin turns his head to finally take a look at the assertive asshole. Marvin has to admit, the man is pretty handsome himself, his features sharp and green eyes framed with naturally long eyelashes. He's about as old as Marvin himself and dressed in a nice charcoal suit with (Marvin notices with a pleasant pang in his chest) small bunny ears atop his own head.

"My name is Raphael." The man introduces himself, sticking his hand out.

Marvin shakes his hand, "Marvin."

"Well, Marvin," Raphael begins, a predatory smile on his face, "I'm bored as hell, you're bored as hell—let's try to make the best of it, yeah?"

“If you’re looking for a screw, keep looking,” Marvin tells him flatly, feeling compelled to be upfront and honest, “But if I wouldn’t mind some company.”

Raphael doesn’t seem deterred; in fact, his smile actually softens as genuine interest flickers on his face, his voice losing its prurient drawl and settling into a normal dialect, "Sounds reasonable." Marvin smiles sardonically at him and cheers him before downing the shot in one gulp, relishing the burn in his stomach.

:: - ::

Half an hour later, Marvin feels like he knows this man mind, body, and soul. He knows that Raphael is a travel agent at his (raging homophobic but trying to be understanding) father's business and that he likes strawberry flavoring more than chocolate and that he prefers to take showers in the evenings rather than the mornings and that he's aware he's at the age when he needs to settle down with a long-term partner but he just broke up with his boyfriend of thirteen years and now he just wants to have  _fun_ for awhile.

Likewise, Marvin tells him his childhood that was riddled with repression and anxiety, his currently screwed up family situation, and the dysfunctional  _sorta-kind_  relationship that he's presently in. He doesn't tell him about his ever-present crushing insecurity and self-doubt, but he feels like Raphael can somehow already tell, his kind eyes and pitying hand on his shoulder providing a warm solace every time Marvin trails off or admits something he would never if he were sober.

And he keeps feeling that flutter in his stomach whenever they catch each other's eye, a flutter not unlike the one he gets around Whizzer. And God, why does he keep thinking about  _Whizzer?_ Since when had that man dictated his entire life, huh? Marvin can make his own decisions. He doesn't need to honor any sense of loyalty or respect to the man when Whizzer has shown him none in the past. 

As he talks about his trip to Rome, Raphael lays a hand on his knee, and Marvin doesn't push it away this time. He's drunk and happy and horny, and maybe he should take him up on his previous offer. After all, what's stopping him?

It's at that moment that Marvin finally lays eyes on Whizzer for the first time in over an hour, standing a few yards away in his (much more elaborate and tight-fitting) cat costume and staring bewilderedly at him.  _He's probably so drunk he can't see straight,_ Marvin thinks to himself and laughs at the unintentional joke, immediately rising from his seat.

Raphael stops him with a hand on his arm, "Leaving so soon?" Marvin startles at the contact, having already forgotten he was there at the sight of Whizzer.

He shrugs and indicates to his lover’s direction with a tilt of his head, explaining, "I think Whizzer's finally ready to go home."

"Oh," Raphael turns and follows his line of sight, whistling in approval, "Isn't he eye candy?"

"I'm a lucky man." Marvin says, attempting for sarcasm though it comes off really fucking sincere for reasons he refuses to dwell on.

"No," Raphael responds softly, eyes shining, "I think  _he's_  the lucky one."

Marvin smiles tightly and slaps him on the back, "Thanks for keeping me company, Raphael.”

"My pleasure. Call me if you two ever  _sorta-kinda_  break it off." Raphael laughs at the surprised look on Marvin’s face.

"Uh, I’ll keep that in mind." He walks away from the man and goes to Whizzer (he always goes to Whizzer; when will he ever stop going to Whizzer?), asking, "Ready to go home?"

"You can stay," Whizzer assures him, his face indifferent but voice stretched tight, "I just need money for a cab."

"That's ridiculous," Marvin dismisses, looping an arm around Whizzer's waist, "Why would I want to stay if you'd already left?" A corner of Whizzer’s mouth twitches, obviously pleased by his response. And out of nowhere, he grabs the back of Marvin’s neck and pulls him into a rough, sloppy kiss, refusing to release his grip until both men are gasping for breath.

"Uh," Marvin stammers breathlessly, "Okay. That was unexpected."

"You look really hot tonight, Marv." Whizzer explains lowly with a smirk, though his eyes flicker over Marvin's shoulder to stare at something (or perhaps  _someone_ ) else.

"Let's leave this god-awful place." Marvin murmurs with a motioning hand, confused as Whizzer nods and snuggles up to him.

Marvin can barely get through the door of their apartment without Whizzer ripping his clothes off, laughing all the while right up until he's moaning.

:: - ::

"Why didn't you go home with that guy?" 

Marvin's confusion pulls himself from his light sleep, groggily asking, "Who?" 

Whizzer’s breath tickles the hair on the nape of Marvin’s neck, distracting Marvin enough that he’s only half-listening as Whizzer explains flippantly, "The guy at the club. I mean, he was hot and actually seemed into you. What, was he some kind of psycho?"

"No," Marvin mumbles into his pillow, still kinda upset that he'd been woken up, "He was nice. He had even cornier jokes than me. Can you believe that?”

"Oh, why don't you just _marry him_ then?" Whizzer mocks petulantly, his voice growing quieter (and perhaps, Marvin distantly notices, a little _spiteful_ ) as he adds, "You looked like you liked what you saw, anyway."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You did that thing," Whizzer struggles to try to explain, "You know, where you twist your hands together and bite your lip. You do that when you want to fuck someone."

"But I didn't want to." He found him attractive, sure, but he wasn't seriously entertaining the idea of _screwing_ the guy.

Marvin takes one of Whizzer's hands and kisses it, admitting casually, "He's nobody compared to you."

"Marv, it's not like we're exclusive." Whizzer is always quick to tell him, but this time his voice is straggled, "You can fuck other guys. It's not a big—"

"You're enough for me, okay?" Marvin declares flatly, just wanting this conversation over so he can go back to sleep, _"You're enough."_

He's fast asleep by the time Whizzer finally whispers back, "Okay."


	11. Day 11 - Wearing Kigurumis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Puns. Puns. Puns. So many puns. I hate myself for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who didn't know (including myself), kigurumis are basically animal footie pajamas.

"Whizzer."

Whizzer crosses his arms over his chest and refuses to look at him, letting his boyfriend stew in the icy silence. He can't believe that he let Marvin drag him into this mess. _I know I'm right, Whizzer,_ Marvin had scoffed at him, _just trust me on this, okay?_ And Whizzer had reluctantly went along, watching with baited breath as Marvin made that stupid bet with the lesbians from next door.

And _of course_ he was wrong. _Of course_ Cordelia and Charlotte turned out to be sadists. _Of course_  Whizzer now had to suffer public humiliation because Marvin is a dumbass who refuses to admit when he's wrong.

Though the baggy kitten kigurumi hangs loosely on his frame, Whizzer is sweating bullets in the eighty degree heat. He's leaning against a feeble shade tree in the park, waiting as the required hour of being outside in this outfit slowly dwindles. Marvin keeps trying to make conversation with him, but Whizzer refuses to budge in his resolve. 

"Come on, Kid," Marvin pouts, "This silent treatment you're giving me is un _bear_ able." He motions to his teddy bear kigurumi, laughing at his own stupid joke.

Again, no response.

"Help _meow_ -t here." He tries again, "It's not so bad, right? At least you're not  _bearfoot_  like I am." He sidles up next to him, asking sweetly, "Are you _paw_ -sitive that you can't forgive me?"

A corner of Whizzer's mouth twitches, "I can _bear_ -ly stand to look at you."

Marvin laughs, sharp and surprised, "Sorry, did you just make a pun? Hold on, I have to gather my _bearings_."

Whizzer rolls his eyes and pushes him playfully, "Stop _kitten_ around. I'm mad at you."

"Well, you should hurry up and forgive me already because I can't _bear_ to come up with anymore puns."

"The odds of my forgiveness are _grizzly_ for you, My Friend."

"Ugh," Marvin groans, "This day is completely _cat_ astrophic." Whizzer tries to hold in a snicker by biting his lip but it spills out anyway, unleashing a floodgate of laughter from both men.

"You realize we are two _grown_ men, right?" Whizzer points out, chuckling.

Marvin nods and swings an arm around Whizzer's shoulder, "I was _litter_ -ally about to say the same thing."

"Oh my god."


	12. Day 12 - Making Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marvin wrestles with developing feelings and struggles to decided what is it he wants out of life. College AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a continuation of the College AU posted on Day 9, but this could stand alone as a one-shot in that of itself. This probably won't be the last installment for this 'verse, but the continuation of it deeply depends on feedback.

Guilt.

It's a funny sort of feeling. It flickers briefly in and out of Marvin's heart, all-consuming one minute yet barely an echo the next. He feels its cold, unforgiving glare as he holds Trina's hand and asks about her day; then later that evening, it becomes as distant as the stars in the night sky, all but forgotten as Whizzer grinds into his hand and pants dirty things in his ear. On some days, the guilt is like a punch in the gut; it chews him up and spits him out, leaving him battered and bruised and bloodied. On other days, it's like an old trinket that Marvin can discard on the bookshelf, a passive observer as he goes about his daily routine.

Look, Marvin is aware of his many faults; he's needy and selfish and often lets his emotions dictate his actions. It's always been this way, so he can't necessarily blame Whizzer for instigating this kind of reckless behavior. 

 _Whizzer._ The name has always caused heat to pool in his stomach, even during the years that Marvin swore he couldn't stand him (which was really true. Whizzer has always been a pain in his ass; it made all matters worse as Marvin kept failing to ignore that Whizzer has such a great _ass,_ too). Ever since freshmen year, Whizzer Brown has been like an infection—an uncontrollable itch under Marvin's skin that refuses to be soothed—but _now_ it has inflamed, these symptoms of rage and envy and desire intensifying with each altercation.

When Whizzer kisses him, he incites a fever in Marvin's blood. With each touch of his hands, Marvin's brittle bones tremble and bend. His own hands shake as he explores the planes of Whizzer's skin, his body uncharted territory and Marvin the blessed map-maker. He's everything that Marvin knows he can't have, but he likes to pretend—likes to play out this little  _fantasy_ —that maybe, just for a little while, he can have it all: the perfect girlfriend, the perfect reputation, the perfect _secret._

Perched on his lap, Whizzer kisses him fervently, his hands buried in Marvin's hair and lazily pulling at the strands every once in awhile. Marvin has his arms looped loosely around Whizzer's waist, methodically thumbing his protruding hipbones. Breaking the kiss, Marvin licks and _bites_ at the vein on the man's neck. In response, Whizzer lets out a loud moan, uninhibited and _filthy,_ and tilts his head back to give him more access. 

Marvin can't help but smirk against Whizzer's skin, his voice dark and taunting, "You're so  _needy_. I mean,  _look at you,"_ He squeezes Whizzer's ass hard, chuckling at the other man's gasp, "You can't get enough of me."

Like expected (and hoped), Whizzer shoves him back hard, using his slender but sturdy frame to press Marvin's back against the couch, "You're one to talk, Asshole. Who invited me over here in the first place?"

Marvin sucks in a breath as Whizzer nips ruthlessly at his neck, admitting breathlessly, "I missed you. You weren't at Cordelia and Charlotte's this afternoon."

"I know. I can't believe I missed you pretending to be straight." Whizzer mocks, adding spitefully, "How is  _Trina_ , by the way?" At the mention of his girlfriend, Marvin's heart drops to his shoes. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Guilt in the darkened corner of the room, its long tendrils slithering closer to him.

" _Don't,"_ Marvin warns him with a heated glare, "Not right now."

"What, a little inappropriate?" Whizzer rolls his hips, and Marvin hates how he moans loudly despite himself, "Now  _that's_ a little inappropriate. Oh no, Marvin, what would the folks back home say if they saw you right now? I can already see the Weekly World News headline now: 'College Made My Son Queer.'"

"Do you ever  _shut up_?" Marvin pulls him into a kiss, finally silencing Whizzer's incessant taunts. He spends the next several minutes taking Whizzer apart with his hands and mouth, the process being so familiar to him despite this thing between them going on for only two months now. By the time he's finished, Whizzer's shirt is off and his pants are undone, his cheeks flushed and mouth swollen. He's splayed out on the couch with Marvin on top of him, biting the bolt of his jaw while his hands paw at his chest.

Marvin eventually leans back, smugly admiring his handiwork. At the loss of the shower of attention, Whizzer's glazed eyes finally snap back into focus, "You wanna...?" He reaches for Marvin's belt, but Marvin shakes his head.

"Nah, not tonight. It's already really late and I have early classes in the morning."

"I came all this way, and you're not gonna screw me?" Whizzer grumbles, but he seems tired himself as a yawn escapes his lips, "What a waste. I spent seven bucks for the cab ride over here."

"That's how much my dick is worth to you?" Marvin wonders, feeling a little insulted, "Seven dollars?"

"Of course not," Whizzer gives him a pacifying pat on the cheek, "More like fourteen, give or take." He laughs at Marvin's slanted stare and slaps his thigh, "Now get off me so I can get dressed." As instructed, Marvin stands up and tosses Whizzer his discarded shirt.

And though Marvin _promised_ himself he wouldn't do this again, he scratches the back of his head and suggests flippantly, "It's really dangerous to walk the streets this late at night, you know. You could still stay over anyway, if you want." Though it really shouldn't come as a surprise at this point, Whizzer looks startled at his offer. His expression fogs with hesitance, looking away from Marvin as he studies the floor.

"I'm not looking to make this a routine thing, you know," Whizzer phrases carefully, cutting his eyes up at Marvin and joking humorlessly, "I mean, at this point, I feel like I should get my own drawer here."

Marvin rises to the bait and calls his bluff, asking steadily, "Who says you can't?"

Whizzer sighs, and his face almost looks _pained,_ "Marvin, I don't—"

"I didn't mean anything by it. Jesus," Marvin tries to laugh it off, but his voice is rattled, "Just trying to be nice. What's the big deal if you keep staying the night, anyway? It doesn't make us _married_ or anything."

"I know that." Whizzer snaps.

Marvin throws up his hands, "Then stay the night!"

"Maybe I will!"

"Fine!" 

"Fine!" 

Marvin begins shucking his clothes off, leaving nothing on but his underwear, "Jesus, why do I have to fight with you on _every little thing?"_

"Oh please," Whizzer scoffs, taking off his shirt, "You love it."

Marvin doesn't respond, his attention subverted as Whizzer shamelessly strips off his pants and underwear. Under his avid gaze, Whizzer suddenly laughs and throws the underwear at his head, all tension leaving the room, " _See._ What a perv."

"I'm only human." And this, they both know quite well. 

Marvin tries not to grin in victory as the two men migrate to his bedroom, crawling under the covers. They continue to bitch and gripe at each other for several more minutes, but it finally gets to the point that Whizzer sighs and wraps his arms around Marvin, "Just go to fucking sleep, Marvin." Forgoing his initial indignation of being the little spoon, Marvin forces himself to relax in Whizzer's warm embrace. 

Absently, he wonders how a boy so cruel could be so sweet at a drop of a hat. One minute, Whizzer is a hissing serpent, attacking every chink in Marvin's armor with the tenacity of a man scorned. The next, he's cuddling up against him, snickering at Marvin's stupid jokes and smiling softly in the shitty fluorescent lighting of his apartment. 

He knows that this is just a game to Whizzer. This is just how pretty boys like him get their kicks: humoring closeted men like Marvin until they get bored or find someone with more money. Marvin knows it's only a matter of time before Whizzer decides to cut him loose, and he's accepted the simple fact. And it's not like Marvin _cares_ anyway. He doesn't _like_ Whizzer. Whizzer is just a pretty mouth and a pair of soft hands to him, a mere outlet providing Marvin the opportunity to get out all of his sexual deviations before he finds the right girl and settles down with a family (that _is_ what he wants. He doesn't care about how any time he truly thinks of that Apple Pie lifestyle, he feels like someone is choking him). Whizzer is mean and spiteful and smarmy and sometimes even _evil,_ and Marvin could never love someone so much like himself. 

He doesn't dwell on the increasingly frequent moments that Whizzer lets down his guard and has sincere conversations with him. He doesn't think too much on Whizzer's _real_ laugh, the hearty, infectious noise that always seems to make Marvin smile. He doesn't remind himself of the countless of times that he's looked forward to seeing Whizzer, not just for sex but for his biting commentary on this, that, or the other.

Huddled so closely together in bed, the warmth of Whizzer's body acts as a protective shell over him. He feels Whizzer's breathing slowly start to even out, the man on the very precipice of sleep. Out of curiosity as to what would happen, Marvin gently threads one of Whizzer's hands with his own, surprised when the man doesn't pull away but tightens his grip. As Marvin drifts off to sleep in a lover's arms, he lets himself believe in a foolish, wishful fantasy—

A fantasy where maybe Marvin isn't falling in love here all by himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TO BE CONTINUED(?).


	13. Day 13 - Eating Ice Cream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As his condition worsens, Whizzer is bed-ridden and miserable in the hospital. Marvin brings him ice cream to cheer him up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My original idea for this prompt was a pre-canon fic about Whizzer mimicking blowjobs to Marvin while Trina was in the room, but at the very last second, I thought to myself, "No, let's make this fucking sad." So here's a canon fic set sometime after Whizzer gets sick.

Whizzer tosses and turns in the hospital bed, exhausted but unable to attain sleep. His skin feels raw and blistered as it rubs against the linen hospital sheets, a sheen of sweat coating his body in an attempt to provide relief. He curses himself for kicking out Cordelia and Charlotte earlier, now knowing that sleep is nowhere in sight for him. Nowadays, he hates being alone, hates being left with his thoughts and the petrifying reality that he very well may be on his deathbed. Whizzer glances over at the buzzing machines next to him and suddenly feels the urge to turn them all off, grow some balls and go out of this world on his own fucking terms.

The thought is idle and frivolous but still present nonetheless. 

"Hey, Kid," Marvin knocks on the door despite already letting himself in, two pints of ice cream in his hand, "You still up?"

"Yeah. Haven't gotten rid of me yet." The banter is cut short by a wet, rambunctious cough that rattles Whizzer's bones and leaves him gasping for breath. Immediately, Marvin rushes to his side, discarding the ice cream on the side table and looping an arm around his boyfriend. 

It takes Whizzer a minute or so to regather his composure, but he's still well enough to tease hoarsely, "More ice cream? Now you're just trying to make me fat so I won't run off with that handsome nurse."

"Why would I need to do that?" Marvin plays along jokingly, but his eyes are damp and sad, "You're already balding." He runs a hand through Whizzer's thinning hair, chuckling as the other man bats him away.

"Just give me the damn sherbet." The tangy coldness is sweet relief on his hot tongue as a wave of ice floods his system, causing Whizzer to moan. He's nearly halfway finished with his pint when he looks over at Marvin, who hasn't even touched his own and is staring wistfully at him.

Whizzer gives him a humorless smile, "See something you like?"

"Always." Marvin leans in and gives him a chaste kiss, sweet and tender and everything that Whizzer would have run from just a few years prior. Now, he welcomes the kiss, smiling against the man's mouth and letting him taste the citrusy flavor on his shallow breath.

"You look a whole lot better today."                             

"Don't," Whizzer whispers softly, unable to look at him as he turns to gaze down at the melting pint in his hands, "Not today. I can't take the bullshit."

The pause of silence breaks Whizzer's heart.

"Okay," Marvin says eventually, and Whizzer is polite enough not to comment on how his voice cracks, "You look like shit."

Whizzer laughs, "Now that's more like it." Marvin takes his hand and leans his head on Whizzer's shoulder. They stay like this for almost an hour, letting the ice cream melt in their hands and pretending that somehow everything will still be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (PS: Next prompt is Genderswapped, and I already have a name for Marvin, but Whizzer's is escaping me. Winnie? Winona? Keep Whizzer? Idk, let me know and if you have any suggestions, that'd be rad).  
> ((PPS: The next installment in the college AU 'verse will be Day 19 and/or 20)).


	14. Day 14 - Genderswapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I would kill for that thrill of first love."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to give Whizzer the name "Winona" primarily because I gave Marvin a gender-bent name so it's only fair that Whizzer suffers the same fate. Also, I chose to imitate the "Thrill of First Love" scene as closely as I could to show how different yet similar their dynamic is even though they are now female. But yeah, obviously AU because they swapped genders, but everything is more or less the same plot and time period-wise.

"Hang up all your clothes." Winona instructs flatly as she hears the apartment door open, not bothering to look up from her newspaper. Marilyn seemingly ignores her, shucking her coat and heels off and depositing them near the doorway.

"Nice to see you, too,  _Sweetheart_ ," Marilyn says dryly, "My day was great, thanks for asking." She glances over at Winona's scandalously clad dress, remarking in disgust, "You've been home _all day,_ and you haven't even bothered to shave your legs?"

"I thought you'd want them that way," She counters coldly, putting the newspaper down and smiling mockingly up at her, "It’d feel more like a man’s. You could close your eyes and try not to feel like a dyke."

"God, you're such a bitch." She flops down on the couch and leans her head on Winona's shoulder, sighing and closing her eyes.

Winona shakes her off, arching an eyebrow and provoking deliberately, "Nine months together, and you're just now figuring that out?"

" _Ten_  months," Marilyn corrects sharply, her voice once again turning to ice, "We've been together for  _ten_  months."

"Nine," Winona persists, adding derisively, "Your _superior_ mind seems to be slipping in your old age."

"You're one to talk," She snaps, snatching a strand of Winona's hair and commenting callously, "Is that another gray hair I spy? Do you need money to go to the hairdresser's again?"

"Sounds like a great idea," She doesn't rise to the bait, instead adding casually, "She was a good fuck. Wouldn't mind another round with her."

Marilyn's smug smile dims, her eyes burning, "You really want to start this now?"

"Start what?" Winona asks innocently, glancing down at Marilyn's cheap blouse and demanding in contempt, "And what is this, _wash-and-wear?"_

"My apologies," Marilyn prods, "Maybe you could fuck the cashier at Macy's and get me a discount on something better."

"It all comes back to the whore jokes," Winona sneers, standing up, "Jesus, would it kill you to get some new material?" She goes to leave, but Marilyn grabs her by the wrist, pulling her into her lap.

"Pretty girls like you should watch their mouths," Marilyn's thumb skims the bottom of Winona's rouge-colored lips, "And put them to good use." Heat pools in Winona's stomach, but she refuses to give Marilyn a break so easily. 

She leans in close until their lips are almost touching, murmuring, "I will, once you've earned it." But Marilyn has already started unzipping her dress, tugging it off and leaving Winona naked and shivering in the cold apartment.

"You haven't even given me a kiss yet," Marilyn pouts as Winona unties her hair and lets it spill over her shoulders, "That's not very housewife of you."

"I'm not your housewife," She lets Marilyn push her down, leaving herself splayed open and exposed, "If you just wanted a kiss, you should've stayed with your husband."

"Who says I wanted just a kiss?" Marilyn ducks down and bites her neck. Winona laughs and claws at her back, blissful and viscous and drunk on that thrill of first love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied about the college AU updating on day 19/20. I read the prompt for tomorrow and immediately got inspired to update it, so be on the look out for a 3.5k installment with a lot of feels and irresponsible drinking.


	15. Day 15 - In a Different Clothing Style

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang goes to a toga party. Whizzer remembers and realizes things. College AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Great summary, I know, but I couldn't think of anything better; too many things happen in this. Enjoy.

"Achilles was totally gay!" Whizzer declares, waving his beer wildly in the air, "I mean, come on! You cannot seriously stand there and tell me he wasn’t tapping Patroclus’ ass on the daily.”

"Your stance would have more weight if I didn't already know that you think  _every_  historical and fictional figure is gay," Marvin informs him, rolling his eyes and adding firmly, "Believe it or not, a man can have a deep emotional bond with another man  _without_  it being sexual."

" _'Deep emotional bond'_? Jesus,  _now_  who sounds gay?" Whizzer chuckles, arching his eyebrow teasingly at Marvin's narrowed eyes.

"This is literally the _stupidest_ fight." Cordelia complains with a groan.

"I disagree," Mendel asserts, "That fight they had last week about which shoe you should put on first _was_ the stupidest."

"The left one," Marvin answers at the exact same time Whizzer claims, "Right one."

"Why does it  _always_  have to be a toga party, you know?" Trina wonders, trying to change the subject, "Why not a decades theme every once in awhile? That'd be fun."

"Oh please, have you  _seen_  the fashion sense in the seventies?" Whizzer scoffs, turning his nose up at the thought, "No thank you."

"This isn't much better," She argues, gesturing at each of their ensembles, "We're all wearing white bed sheets. How  _boring_  is that?"

 "Depends on how you wear them, Sweetheart." Whizzer points out, gesturing to his scandalously clad outfit that leaves almost nothing to the imagination, "Isn't that right, Marv?" Marvin jolts at the mention of his name, looking up from his beer to find both his girlfriend and lover staring at him impatiently. 

"Uh," He clears his throat, careful not to look too long at Whizzer's exposed skin, "No. Trina's right, definitely."

"Really?" Whizzer challenges, "What was she saying again?"

Marvin freezes, at a loss, before he finally rolls his eyes, "Who the fuck cares? Let's talk about something that actually _matters."_

"The history on Toga parties is very interesting," Mendel says hurriedly, grabbing Trina's attention with a touch of her elbow, "It started in the 1950s at—"

"You look beautiful tonight, Trina," Marvin states suddenly with a smile, turning her to face him instead of Mendel, "A real Greek goddess."

"Thank you," Trina's voice is sweet and soft-spoken, but her smile is barbed, "It would mean a lot more coming from  _sober_  you, but I appreciate the rare compliment nonetheless."

Marvin's expression darkens, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means _piss off,_ I was talking to someone." She turns back to Mendel, giving him an encouraging smile. Marvin looks almost ready to make a scene but at Charlotte’s warning look, he seems to think better of it, simply muttering to himself and storming away from the group. Whizzer doesn't have to idle long before his phone buzzes, a beckoning text from none other than Marvin.

He quickly pockets his phone and says, "Well, I'm going to get laid. I'll see the dream team later."

"Booty call?" Charlotte guesses with a smirk, gesturing to his cellphone, "I didn't know you picked up a regular. What's his name?"

"A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell," Whizzer points out, compromising, "I can show you a picture of his dick though."

Charlotte laughs and quickly shakes her head, "No, go on ahead. I don't want to keep your dashing man waiting." With a mocking salute, Whizzer fades into the crowd, going upstairs to find the room Marvin texted him about.

"Who knew Trina had claws?" Whizzer says as soon as he steps into the bedroom, "I'm proud of the kid." Marvin rolls his eyes and pats the spot on the bed next to him. 

"Use your words," Whizzer presses him, though he sits down beside him away, " _Romance_ me."

"Since when did you ever need to be _romanced_ to take your pants off?" Marvin jokes lowly, pulling at the short strands of hair near Whizzer's neck.

"Calling me a whore? Marvin, you're terrible at this whole sweet-talking business." He slides a hand up Marvin's thigh, "Maybe I should get off with someone else here. I bet some other guy would at least  _smile_  at me." He starts to get up only to be pulled back down by Marvin.

"You look beautiful tonight, Whizzer," Marvin purrs mockingly, mimicking his earlier tone, "A real Greek goddess."

"Doesn't work on me neither, Sweetheart. Try again." Whizzer straddles Marvin's lap, running his hands up his chest.

"That robe looks good on you," Marvin says casually, already tugging it off, "It would look even better on the bedroom floor."

"Cheesy and unoriginal," Whizzer remarks, leaning in, "But I'll take it."

:: - ::

When they're finished, they quickly get redressed, knowing it's only a matter of time before the group starts wondering where both of them are.

"This is shit beer," Marvin comments, looking at the bottle carefully, "God, remember the last time we had this?"

At the strange question, Whizzer shakes his head, "No. Am I supposed to?"

"It was sophomore year," Marvin explains, watching his expression carefully, "We were at some Alpha Zeta Delta party, and you were pounding these back like juice packets."

"That sounds like every party," He points out, rolling his eyes, "What made this one different?"

"It was just us two in the flatbed of my truck," Marvin looks almost offended that Whizzer doesn't remember this obscure moment, "We were  _talking_  rather than fighting for once. It was nice. Jesus, how could you _not_ remember?”

He continues to stare blankly at him, "I’m sorry? I mean, come on, Marv, it obviously wasn’t that important.”

"It was the first time I thought about kissing you." Marvin states flatly, pushing past him and leaving the room. And suddenly, that's when Whizzer is hit with a long-forgotten memory:

 

 _He'd gotten in a major fight with his father just hours before, a full-fledged screaming match that left his voice hoarse and heart bleeding (this was back when he and his dad actually still_ talked _). Taking privacy and solace in the back of Marvin's truck, Whizzer opens another bottle of this cheap-ass beer and wants to call the asshole back, scream at him to stop paying the fucking tuition then if he's so concerned about Whizzer ruining his own potential. He's so fucking tired of these weekly disappointed "talks," tired of those hollow materialistic gifts that his parents think allow them to treat him like shit. He takes another drink and contemplates getting laid tonight, finding an equally trashed boy and getting off in the back of this truck. Fuck, Marvin would be_ livid—

 _"What are_ you _doing?" Whizzer looks over and sees Marvin staring at him, obviously agitated._

_"Fuck off for a few minutes, okay? I'm lamenting about my concerned parents like a spoiled brat," Whizzer shrugs, "I'm sure you can relate."_

_Marvin smirks at him, "What, did they not get you a pony for Christmas?"_

_"They think I'm throwing away my future by deciding to pursue photography instead of business," He tells him briskly, "They want to stop putting me through college."_

_Marvin's face changes, all cruelty slipping from his features, "That's heavy."_

_"It's smart," Whizzer corrects flatly, his father's words spilling from his mouth, "A degree in photography is essentially worthless, especially in this economy. God, Whizzer, we're not wasting all this money so you can dick around and then move back into our basement when you finish pursuing your 'passion.' You're nineteen, for fuck's sake. Wake up; this is the_ real world _now." He stops suddenly, feeling stupid and embarrassed and worthless. After a beat of silence, Marvin climbs into the truck, sitting down next to him and stealing his beer._

 _"This taste like shit," Marvin comments after a pause, "And I'm young and supposed to think_ any _beer is good beer."_

_"It gets the job done."_

_Once again, they’re bathed in uncomfortable silence._

_"Whizzer, I'm in your introduction to photography," Marvin reminds him, like Whizzer could_ forget _when they scream at each other every other class, "And even_ I _can admit that you're really fucking good. Like, not even just magazine good—I'm talking your own exhibit in somewhere exotic like_ Paris _good."_

_"This is out of character for you," Whizzer remarks, looking at him, "In circumstances like this, I would have bet you’d kick me while I was down.”_

_"I'm not_ that _much of a prick." Marvin tells him, prompting Whizzer to scoff in disbelief._

_"Look, Mendel says everyone hates his parents," Marvin tries again after a lull of silence, "And he's studying to be a psychiatrist and taking these really hard classes. So, I mean, you're not alone by feeling this way. And hey, you’ll grow out of it eventually."_

_"They don't know I'm gay." Whizzer admits suddenly, confused himself as to why he even brings it up._

_Unexpectedly, Marvin laughs, "Really?_ How?"

 _"Yeah, I know." Whizzer chuckles a little before he adds somberly, "They're really religious, put me through a catholic school and everything." He pauses, "Marvin, I'm fucking terrified that I'll have to pretend to be someone I'm not so I don't lose the people I love. Get a job I hate, marry a girl I could never love—Fuck, I can't imagine doing that, y'know? Honestly, I don't care that they'll hate me. I_ won't _do that to myself."_

_Marvin seems taken aback by his honesty, his expression one that Whizzer has never seen on him before. Finally, he gathers his bearings and comforts with a pained smile, "You don't know for sure that they'll hate you. Hell, they might even surprise you."_

_He snorts, "Are you kidding? Coming from_ you,  _that's rich."_

 _"Whizzer, I don't hate you because you're_ gay,"  _Marvin declares incredulously, like the sheer thought of it_ baffles _him, "I hate you because you're a pain in my ass. I mean, come on, I know I'm a dick, but give me a little credit here."_

_At his surprising response, Whizzer laughs. He laughs and laughs until his sides start hurting and he's panting for air. He looks over at Marvin and finds the man watching him, his face desperate and hungry—but for what, Whizzer's too drunk and upset to try to figure out._

_Whizzer slaps the man on the back, breaking Marvin from his spell, "You're alright, Marvin. Fuck, sober me will hate me for saying it, but you're damn alright." And they stay like that for a little while longer, staring up at the stars in the night sky._

 

"You look well-fucked." Charlotte compliments as Whizzer joins the group again. He tries to catch eyes with Marvin, but the bastard won't look at him. Instead, he's got his arm around Trina, making up for being an ass to her by showering her in hollow compliments and attention. Whizzer doesn't know why, but the sight makes his chest tighten.

"Eh, it was so-so," Whizzer tells Charlotte, glancing over at Marvin, "I've had better." Marvin's grip on Trina tightens, but he still refuses to spare him a glance. And Whizzer's trying to be  _romantic_  here, dammit.

"Hey, Marvin," He says, forcing the man to look at him, "You brought up some good points about the whole Achilles thing. You know," He pauses, putting emphasis on the words, "You're alright. Sober me will hate me for saying it, but you're  _damn_  alright."  _Yes, Asshole, I remember. You can stop sulking now._ Marvin suddenly smiles at him, honest and open and completely inappropriate in this group setting where they're supposed to hate each other.

"Okay," Mendel says, looking back at Trina and Marvin, "Are you sure you guys still want to go? We only _just_ got here."

"Trina's right. This party is shit," Marvin looks down at his girlfriend, smiling sweetly at her, "You wanna swing by and see if the drive-in is still showing that shitty movie you like?"

"Dressed like this?" She asks but then shrugs, "Well, I mean, we probably won't be the weirdest ones dressed there. Okay, that sounds good.”

As she talks, Marvin stares directly at Whizzer, apparently too trashed to remember the whole thing about being _discrete_. When she begins tugging him away, he jerks back into reality, wrapping an arm around her waist and leading her to the door. 

As soon as they leave, Whizzer says, "I could go for another drink."

:: - ::

At the very edge of the lawn, right next to the edge of a thickly wooded area, Whizzer stretches out on the grass and looks up at the stars. Are they the same ones that they watched that night? He feels like Marvin would know, though he's kinda glad he's not around to ask him; he'd probably snicker in condescension and overly explain the answer to Whizzer like he was a five-year-old.

"Whizzer." He turns to find Charlotte watching him, her lips pressed and forehead creased.

He cocks an eyebrow at her, "Ready to go?"

She walks over and sits down next him, stealing his beer and taking a long sip. The tension in the air is confusing, but just as Whizzer is about to ask what's up, Charlotte declares evenly, "You need to stop."

"What, drinking?" He laughs, "Pot calling the kettle black, Doll. Which professor fed you the Kool-Aid of prohibition—"

"Whizzer, I know you're screwing Marvin," Her voice is quiet but firm, her gaze lowered but steady, "And I'm asking you to stop." At her declaration, all looseness and good humor is abruptly wrung out of Whizzer's body. 

Whizzer ponders the option of denying it—that's what Marvin would want him to do—but he knows Charlotte can read through any type of bullshit. So instead he responds briskly, "That's none of your business, Charlotte."

"That's why I'm not telling you; I'm  _asking_  you," She takes his hand delicately, "I've never judged your sexual life; that's not my place. But  _this_  affects me and Cordelia—"

Whizzer snorts, interjecting, "That's such an  _absorbed_  thing to claim—"

"Marvin and Trina are  _our friends,"_  She points out sharply, "They’re apart of our lives, just like you are. And I don't want to lose friends just because you were horny and wanted to prove some sort of  _point—“_

He scoffs, "That is  _not_  what I'm doing—"

"Then what _are_ you doing, huh?" She demands, her penetrating stare pinning him in place, "Please, Whizzer,  _enlighten_   _me._ Because I  _want_  to believe you're not doing this just because you  _can."_ It's the way she says it—that disappointed, desperate tone that challenges Whizzer to be better. With a pang in his chest, he realizes that she sounds just like his father.

And because of that, Whizzer hardens his heart, ripping his hand away from her grasp and responding coldly, "Maybe I am." His words seem to shake her, but Charlotte is undeterred.

"Fine, maybe you are. Maybe you are the piece of shit that you like to pretend to be." She pauses, her voice growing soft, "But I've always liked to see the best in you."

Whizzer laughs, sharp and bitter, "There's your first mistake." He stands up, throwing his beer against a distant tree just to see it shatter, "I don't need you giving me shit for this. If you're pissed at me, alright, be pissed—Hell, yell at me until you're blue in the face. But don't you  _dare_  scold me like I'm fucking ten years old. I'm your  _friend,_ Charlotte, not your ward."

He goes to walk away, but her statement stops him, "I didn't know he meant that much to you."

"He means  _nothing_  to me." Whizzer declares firmly, suddenly desperate to convince her of the fact.

She throws up her hands, "Then find somebody else— _anybody else._ Just keep it out of our friend circle. Whizzer, I'm not just asking this for shits and giggles; this is for  _everyone's_  sake." She pauses and adds gently, "Especially Marvin's."

 _"Marvin?"_ He sneers, angry and disgusted, "So  _he's_  the innocent victim and  _I'm_  the dragon in this situation? How is  _that_  fair?"

"Because he means nothing to you," She throws his words back in his face, adding lowly, "And I looked at that man's face for one second in there and knew you meant a hell a lot more to him than that." He wants to deny it, tell her that she's romanticizing their arrangement and seeing something that isn't there. 

But he saw that look on Marvin's face, too. It was the face of a man looking up at the stars in the night sky and wondering if the drunk boy beside him loved him back.

"He'll get over it." He says quietly, utterly convinced. Love is passionate but fleeting, and it always dies. Always.

She sighs, standing up and putting a hand on his shoulder, "Whizzer, I'm asking you as a friend: put an end to it. You've had your fun. Now let him go before people get hurt more than they already have been."

And Whizzer knows she's right. He knows that this isn't a mere game anymore. Trina and Marvin are the kind of couple that get married right out of college, settle down with a couple of brats and reminisce about the good old days to distract themselves from their miserable present day lives. Whizzer invaded a life—no, a  _future_  that he doesn't belong in, and now that he's had his fun, it's time to let go and start fresh. He's done it plenty of times before, has went through so many lovers that he can't even recall all of them off the top of his head. Marvin is not any different, he's sure. And yet—

"It's not that easy," And his voice breaks, and suddenly he feels so very young and so very small.

Charlotte's eyes widen, like she's finally figured it out, " _Oh._ Sweetheart." She reaches out to touch his face, but he pulls away. 

"No, sorry, you're right." He nods, hardening his expression, "Better to end it before he gets too attached."

He walks away, not letting Charlotte say another word.

:: - :: 

The following evening, when Marvin calls him over, Whizzer has prepared a laughably impersonal yet direct speech in his mind. He'll say all that he needs to say, turn around, and then just walk away. And that'll be the end of it—of  _all_  of it. Marvin opens the door and smiles at him, but before he can get a word of greeting out, Whizzer starts talking and doesn't stop.

He manages to get through the whole spiel—about how they're just too different, this was fun while it lasted but the passion has died, it isn't fair to Trina, more bullshit that feels heavy and sick on his tongue—without looking directly at the man, keeping his voice monotone but firm. Marvin doesn't say a word of protest throughout the speech, silent and passive and so unlike himself that Whizzer feels sort of put off. This is a very anticlimactic ending to their torrid affair, and honestly, Whizzer expected more from the temperamental man.

"—So, this thing between us is over now. I'll make myself scarce in places where I know you'll be for a few weeks so you can get over it quicker. And um, it was nice screwing you, I guess?" He waits for Marvin's response, even though he promised himself he would flee the moment he was finished.

Marvin just nods, his face carefully blank. He opens his door wider, ignoring everything he just said by beckoning calmly, "Come inside, and we can talk about it."

"I know what you're trying to do," Whizzer informs him exasperatedly, "But I'm serious, Marv. This thing stops now before— _don't touch me."_ Whizzer grabs Marvin's hand clamped around his wrist and shoves him back. Transfixed, he watches as Marvin gives him a trying look and reaches for him again, slower this time and maintaining steady eye-contact. 

Whizzer groans but doesn't pull away when Marvin wraps his arms around his waist, "Marvin, _cut it out_. Can't you take _no_ for an answer?"

"Tell me no," Marvin challenges with a smug expression, "Tell me no, and I'll stop. I'll stop bothering you—hell, I won't even _look_ in your direction ever again. But I want to hear you  _say it_ —in your own words and not in some bullshit speech about morals that I  _know_  you don't believe in." At Whizzer’s pause, he leans in and taunts in his ear, "Go on then.  _Do it."_

Whizzer opens his mouth, but the words cling to the back of his throat.

He pushes Marvin away and stares at him, waiting for his next move. 

The man just smiles knowingly and beckons again, "Come inside." And Whizzer lets himself be tugged by the wrist inside the apartment, lets the man _take_ and _take_ even though Whizzer has nothing to give.

"Passion dies eventually," Whizzer tells him as they lay breathless in the aftermath, "Just because it's not today doesn't mean it can't be tomorrow."

Marvin shrugs, pulling Whizzer into his arms, "We'll deal with it tomorrow then." And it seems so simple right now between the two of them, but Charlotte's words of warning still echo in the back of his mind.

Whizzer admits quietly, "Marvin, that night...I think I wanted to kiss you, too." Marvin’s hold on him tightens, and his smile is blinding in the pale lighting of the room. And Whizzer knows that he is devouring this man and his bleeding heart, but he doesn’t think he could stop even if he _tried._

He wonders if this is what love feels like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TO BE CONTINUED(?)


	16. Day 16 - During Their Morning Ritual(s)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quiet morning in the Whizzer and Marvin household.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kinda boring and I kinda hate it, but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ I had no inspiration for this one, but next prompt will be great, I promise. Enjoy!

The morning light streaming in through one of the broken window blinds hits Whizzer's face and rouses him from sleep. He yawns and stretches his dormant muscles, relishing the burn and wondering if the pros outweighed the cons of staying in bed all day. At the movement, Marvin groans and stirs in his arms, petulant and moody as always in the morning. Whizzer glances over at the clock and shakes his lover awake, "Marv, it's time to get up."

"Hmm?" He looks blearily at the clock, scowling, "I still have thirty minutes left."

"True," Whizzer slides his hand under the cover, grabbing hold of Marvin and hearing him gasp, "But I was thinking we could spend that time doing something _else_ before work."

Marvin straddles him, pressing their palms together and whispering into his ear, "You'll be the death of me."

Whizzer opens his mouth to make a witty retort, but then he gets _distracted_ and loses the ability to form coherent sentences for the next thirty minutes or so...

:: - ::

The hot water of the bathtub relaxes Whizzer's tense muscles, the scent of lavender rising within the steam and filling the bathroom’s atmosphere. He watches as Marvin neatly shaves his face, catching his eye in the mirror and stretching enticingly.

"You should join me." Whizzer suggests vainly, already knowing his response.

"I have work," Marvin reminds him, patting his now clean-shaven face dry and rubbing some aftershave on, "You like getting all those new, expensive clothes, don't you?" Whizzer rolls his eyes, leaning his head back on the edge of the tub and listening to Marvin sing some outdated show tune under his breath.

As Marvin exits the bathroom to get dressed, Whizzer finally decides to towel off and make breakfast. He ends up burning the toast and getting shell in the omelet but he didn't set off their fire alarm this time, so he counts this as a victory. When Marvin enters the kitchen, his gaze falls directly on the pitiful breakfast, his mouth working but no biting remarks thrown in Whizzer's direction. Since their time apart, Marvin has learned to be kinder, knows now when to bite his tongue and pick his battles. Whizzer gladly welcomes the change in attitude, but every once in awhile, he longs for the scathing fights they'd get into over nothing.

Whizzer takes one look at Marvin and snorts, commenting snidely, "Really? _That_ shirt with _that_ tie?"

"No snide remark about my shoes this time?" Marvin quips, taking a bite out of the blackened toast and trying not to grimace, "I'm improving then."

"More like I've given up on a loss cause." Whizzer steals a bite of Marvin's (bland but chewy) omelet, "What do you want for dinner tonight?"

"Trina's dropping Jason off at six. I'll just pick up some take-out for the three of us." He says dismissively.

Whizzer smiles in self-deprecation, "Good call. Wouldn't want to expose your son to my shit cooking." Marvin shrugs helplessly, not bothering to lie and spare his feelings.

He checks the time on his watch, giving Whizzer a hurried peck on the lips, "I have to go. Love you." Whizzer still becomes startled when he hears those words even though he himself is now in the habit of muttering them back. It's surreal to be in a relationship with Marvin again, this time so similar yet so very different from before. Two years apart have worked wonders on both men, made them less snide and more receptive to change. 

Whizzer cleans up the kitchen before getting dressed and heading to work himself, feeling overwhelmingly content.


	17. Day 17 - Spooning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four Moments in Life: The Evolution of Marvin as the Little Spoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You would not believe that day I've had. Anyway, this is cute and sad (my favorite). Enjoy!

_One_

After their first time (in an actual _bed,_ that is; he doesn't count the previous times in the bathrooms, or the alleyways, or the couches, or the _carpets_ ), Marvin is left sweaty and breathless in the aftermath. He was lucky he'd had enough foresight to tell Trina he would be working really late tonight because he doesn't think if he could stand up even if he tried. Whizzer Brown is in a similar disarray, his immaculately styled hair tousled and smart mouth briefly silent.

Marvin’s body sinks deeper into the shitty mattress in Whizzer's apartment, and though he knows staying any longer than necessary will bite him in the ass, he can't bring himself to leave just yet. _Ten more minutes,_ he bargains with himself, turning on his side and closing his drooping eyes. The cold air feels blissful on his scorching, damp skin as the sensation of Whizzer's comforting hand on his hip slowly lulls the married man into a light sleep. At that time, Whizzer pulls him closer, wrapping his arms around him and tucking his head on Marvin's shoulder. Marvin will deny up and down how he melted into the man's embrace, how he sighed and smiled in a way that almost made his face hurt.

He stirs an hour later, immediately horrified and ashamed at his submissive position. Careful to not wake the other sleeping man, Marvin slips out of the embrace, ignoring how he feels the loss like a sharp ache in his bones. When he finally goes home to Trina, he clutches her tightly, letting his hard arms act as a cradle for her soft body. _A_ real _man is never held,_ Marvin reminds himself that night, though in his dreams, he is blanketed in Whizzer's strong, sturdy arms.

    _Two_

Marvin holds Whizzer close to his chest, envious of the man's even breathing while he himself is unable to find sleep. He could never get comfortable in this position, always felt strung out and restless. Trying to find a better angle, he tries to move as discreetly as possible without waking the other man. Whizzer stirs briefly at the motion before thankfully being lulled back into unconsciousness. Marvin settles into this new position and closes his eyes, though he doesn't feel quite comfortable like this either. As carefully as he can, Marvin twists and turns, fruitlessly attempting to attain just the slightest comfort.

"Oh my god!" Whizzer barks suddenly, breaking the silence and scaring the hell out of Marvin, " _Stop!_ I'm trying to get some fucking sleep." Before Marvin can indignantly explain himself, Whizzer forcibly shoves him to lay on his side and wraps his arms around him, trapping him in a tight embrace.

"This isn't any better." Marvin growls, but the growing tension in his muscles dissolves as soon as Whizzer holds him.

"I don't care. Go to fucking sleep." 

In this new position, Marvin finally falls asleep within minutes. Whizzer either doesn't notice or figures it's better not to bring up.

    _Three_

"She wanted to invite the Applebaums! Can you believe that?" Marvin scoffs as he enters the bedroom and starts stripping to his underwear, "God, I haven't had this much of a headache ever since I was _married_ to her."

From his reclined position on the bed, Whizzer pretends to be offended, "Marv, I thought _I_ gave you the most headaches.”

"Come on, let her at least have that," Marvin scolds jovially, joining him under the covers, "You already stole her husband."

"Oh please, you were never hers."

"Am I yours?" Marvin asks with a sweet smile, stealing a kiss from the scowling man.

"That's not what I said."

"Yeah, yeah." Out of habit, Whizzer pulls him into an embrace, threading their hands together and resting his chin on Marvin's shoulder. Though he once prickled and balked at this arrangement, Marvin has come to bask in it, warm and happy and in love.

    _Four_

The cheap bed is too small for the both of them and it's technically against the hospital rules, but Marvin stretches out with Whizzer on the thin mattress anyway. Even though they are cramped so close together, Marvin can barely feel the pressure of Whizzer's gaunt body pressed against his own. At one point in time (which seems so long ago but was really only months prior), Whizzer's body (while narrow and trim) was a beacon of strength and warmth; now his body is simply a pile of cold bones covered in thin skin, a mere echo of its once glorious form. Marvin could cry at the thought, but dammit, he's just too damn tired. These days, he's always just so damn tired.

Whizzer clutches Marvin tightly, as if he is the tether bounding him to this Earth. Marvin lets himself be held, lets Whizzer breathe deeply into his hair as if he's trying to memorize his scent. In return, Whizzer lets Marvin shake and tremble in his arms, lets him be scared and lost and vulnerable for the both of them. They fit together like pieces of a puzzle, Marvin can't help but notice suddenly as he glances down at their entangled legs. He remembers years ago when he was afraid to be held, scared that this somehow made him less of a man. He almost laughs at the memory, but no real indication of mirth has slipped past his lips since Whizzer became bound to this hospital bed.

As he watches the love of his life slowly wither away into just an echo of the great man he once was, Marvin realizes that Whizzer isn't the only one dying here.

He doesn't think of tomorrow. Instead, he stays bound to today, wrapped in the arms of a man he loves and peacefully drifts off to sleep.


	18. Day 18 - Doing Something Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The strength of not only Whizzer and Marvin's relationship but their collective sanity is put to the test.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is me trying to be funny.

"Marvin, it doesn't fit. Just pull it out."

"It'll fit, okay? It just needs a  _hard_  push. Now are you gonna help me or are you gonna make me do this all by myself?"

Strained silence.

 _"Fine."_ Groans of exertion are heard from inside the apartment followed by the tell-tale signs of a body rubbing against hardwood.

Finally, Whizzer's panicked voice, "Marvin, Marvin,  _Marvin—Stop!_ You're gonna fucking break it.  _We spent five hundred on this damn table!"_

Marvin lets the wooden table leg clatter to the ground, barking, "Well, where else am I supposed to put it, huh? It doesn't fit in Green Slot 45D! It doesn't fit in Yellow Slot 29A! It _sure_ as hell doesn't fit in Green Slot 43E! It  _has_  to fit in this one."

Whizzer throws the thick manual at Marvin's head, aiming to kill, "It doesn't _unless_ it's with Yellow Bolt 21C. I told you that an  _hour_  ago! If you ever  _listened—"_

"Oh, don't you dare start! Who was right about Red Bolt 19C, huh?  _Me."_

They'd been putting this new kitchen table together for three hours now, and so far it has caused eight heated arguments, three full-fledged screaming matches, eleven serious threats of violence, and two honest-to-God break ups (and subsequent reconciliations).

Whizzer sighs, wiping the sweat from his brow, "Marv, we can't do this again. We can't let this _monster_  come between us."

Marvin looks down at his numb hands, exhausted and aching and so damn frustrated he feels like smashing through their wall, "I'm tired, Whizzer. God, we were supposed to go out to eat over an  _hour_  ago."

"We don't leave until this is finished." Whizzer leans over and grabs the manual again, a determined look fixed on his face, "We are  _men,_ dammit! I mean, this is in our DNA, right?  _We can do this."_

Marvin nods firmly, trying to believe his words, "Okay. Hand me the screwdriver."

Three hours later, the men stare triumphantly at the erected IKEA table, which looks vaguely similar to an altar of a beloved god. Whizzer clutches the manual close to his chest, and if a few tears are in his eyes, Marvin doesn't call attention to them.

He loops an arm around Whizzer's waist, pulling him close, "You know, you've never been more attractive to me."

Whizzer laughs, admitting, "I can't wait until you screw me on that table."

Marvin moans at the possibility, " _God yes._  But we seriously need to eat. I feel like I've fasted for forty days and forty nights."

"Maybe the desert was just a metaphor," Whizzer suggests thoughtfully as they leave the apartment, "Maybe the Israelites really just wandered around a giant IKEA." 

:: - ::

As they lay in bed that night, a thunderous noise erupts from the kitchen and echoes throughout the apartment. Both men are immediately ripped from the precipice of sleep, a solid brick of fear and hopelessness sinking in their stomachs. They  _know_  that sound.

Marvin goes to get out of bed to clean the godforsaken mess up, but Whizzer stops him, speaking in a hushed whisper, "We didn't hear that. The table is fine. Let's just go back to sleep."

"Whizzer—"

"I can't stand the sight of it, Marv," He confesses quietly, desperation in his voice, "If I go into that kitchen and see that table in pieces right now, I will have a mental breakdown." Marvin nods, knowing exactly how he feels. They clutch each other tightly that night, dreading the morning light that will inevitably reveal their tear-stained failure.


	19. Day 19 - In Formal Wear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marvin is offended when Trina assumes he wouldn't have a date to her and Mendel's wedding, so he makes up a fake relationship on the spot. In order to save himself from embarassment, he enlists his loud neighbor - Whizzer Brown, who HATES him - to pretend to be his boyfriend for one night. Fake Relationship AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an AU, so I changed somethings: this is set in modern times, Marvin and Trina's divorce was somewhat amicable (well, as amicable as a divorce can be), and Charlotte and Cordelia live next door to Trina and Mendel rather than Marvin.

Marvin would consider himself a _good_ neighbor. Though he doesn't knock on everyone's doors and invite them all for some weekly potluck or anything, he does make it a point to remain considerate and accommodating; he goes to bed at a reasonable hour, remains quiet in the day in order to not disturb any of his neighbors, keeps the outside of his door and hallway clean of any mail or other items, and is generally considerate of his fellow occupants.

Whizzer Brown, the man that occupies the apartment directly to his right, is a _terrible_ neighbor. While Marvin himself keeps quiet in his apartment, Whizzer is apathetic to those around him. He slams doors, bangs on walls, maxes the volume on his television and radio, and _entertains_ many "guests" after curfew (only a thin wall separates their two bedrooms, so Marvin is quite used to putting thick headphones on and willfully trying to go to sleep before the sex starts). The first week he moved here, Marvin tried to be cordial by compiling his complaints in a list entitled "Try being more considerate for your neighbors" and taping it to the man's door. When he got back from work, however, he found a piece of paper simply stating in messy handwriting: _Try not being such a tight-ass and worry about getting laid for once rather than about how I live my life._ So, being the mature adult man he is, Marvin has since dropped all niceties and exploits every opportunity of passive-aggressiveness to piss the bastard off. 

One such example being this very morning as Marvin rushes in the elevator and pushes the button for the ground floor, checking his watch and cursing the fact that he slept in. Before the doors close, Marvin spies Whizzer (dressed in his running gear that, admittedly, looks damn good on him) leave his apartment and shout over his shoulder, "Hey, keep the door open!"

Marvin waits until Whizzer makes steady eye-contact before he slowly, deliberately starts heatedly pressing the  _close doors_ button. 

"You dick!" Whizzer exclaims, breaking out into a dead run. _Too late, Asshole,_ Marvin thinks to himself as the width between the elevator doors shrink into a mere few inches—

At the very last second, Whizzer jams a foot between the closing doors, the sensors immediately reacting and prompting the doors to shoot back open. Marvin sighs and forces himself to look up at the breathless man, and honestly, _if looks could kill._ He doesn't bother to mutter a half-hearted apologize when they both know that it's bullshit. Instead, he meets Whizzer's spiteful glare. Whizzer walks casually into the elevator and, sparing a confusingly smug look at him, spitefully presses every button, lighting the panel up like a Christmas tree.

"Oh come on!" Marvin shouts, " _Really?_ Some of us have actual _work_ to get to, you know."

Whizzer shrugs, pointing out, "You started it." His eyes sweep the length of Marvin's body and sneers, "And you're wearing that? _In public?"_

Marvin bristles, looking over his suit, "It looks fine."

"It would if we lived in the _seventies,"_ Whizzer scoffs, picking at his nails, "Honestly, Marv, men would look at you twice if you only _dressed_ like you wanted them to."

"I'm too old to dress like a twink to get a man to pay for my drinks." Marvin gives him a significant look, "And so are _you."_ Whizzer's glare intensifies as the rest of the long elevator is filled with chilled silence. Marvin books it as soon as the elevator doors open to the ground floor, aware of eyes drilling in a hole in the back of his head.

:: - ::

Walking into a home that is not _his_ home anymore will always be surreal for Marvin. It feels like almost yesterday that he'd lived here as a depressed, tightly wound man with a wife that he could never love and a son he could never understand. It's been a solid two years since his divorce, and both everything and nothing has changed. He doesn't have a wife or psychiatrist anymore, but he sees them with enough surprising frequency that it feels like neither has really left his life. Jason is getting easier to understand since he'd finally forgiven Marvin for past errors, but he still throws him curveballs that leave him reeling ( _metaphorical_ curve balls, he must clarify; he'd be pretty proud if Jason could _actually_ throw a real one). Marvin has spent the better part of these two years letting go of the straight, family man persona that he'd stapled to his skin long ago, but he's still fighting to claim his own sense of identity that he's been suppressing his entire life.

Marvin is surprised to discover not just Trina and Mendel here but Cordelia and Charlotte as well, the four crowded around the kitchen table that is covered with papers. Everyone acknowledges his presence with a nod or wave except Trina, her gaze glued to the papers and expression worried and frustrated.

"Is this about Jason?" He asks, still wondering why Trina called him over here to stop by after work.

"No, he's fine," Trina says dismissively, beckoning him over, "It's about the wedding."

"Oh." Because he's invited. To the wedding of his _ex-wife_ and _ex-psychiatrist._ Honestly, the Brady Bunch has _nothing_ on this family's dysfunctional dynamics.

"Marv, do you want brisket or shakshukafor your entree?"

"Brisket."

"And I seated you next to Charlotte. Charlotte, you're still bring your plus one?"

"Aunt Ida will arrive in a few days," Charlotte rubs her temples as she looks over at Cordelia, "I know she's your aunt, Honey, and you love her, but I can't handle a single conversation with the woman before she starts talking about her _quilting."_

"Charlotte gets a plus one?" Marvin asks, brow furrowed, "What about Cordelia?"

"I'll be busy cooking for the wedding!" She announces excitedly, "My business really needed this score."

"I gave everyone the Plus One option," Trina explains distractedly, studying the floor plan with an expression of vague pain.

Marvin furrows his brow, pointing out, "Well, no one said anything to _me_ about it."

"Why would she?" Charlotte prompts, chuckling slightly, "Marvin, everyone you would count as your Plus One is already invited."

"That's not true." Marvin argues petulantly, "There's..." He looks around at everyone in the room—Mendel, Trina, Cordelia, Charlotte—and falls silent in baffled horror, realizing the truth of Charlotte's word. Is he really _that_ pathetic that these few people are his only friends? Desperately, he thinks of his co-workers: Steve Warren, the raging alcoholic who brags about his hot step-daughter? _No._ Phyllis Bates, the lonely woman who smells of sour milk and raises her voice at the end of every sentence like she's asking a question? _No._ Daniel Reynolds, the sullen old man who only complains about his "bitch of a first wife" that he's recently gotten back together with? _No._ How about anyone at Temple? Marvin hasn't really been since his divorce (and you know, coming out of the closet), but they still count as friends, right? 

Oh, who is he kidding? 

"Exactly," Cordelia says with a shrug when Marvin fails to finish his sentence, "And it's okay, Marvin. It's nothing to be ashamed of." But that's not necessarily true, is it? Marvin rarely goes on any dates since his divorce, blaming it on his busy working schedule rather than his intense fear of actually putting himself out there. Hell, the most social contact he gets is when he goes over to Charlotte and Cordelia's or occasionally stays for a little while with Trina and Mendel when he drops Jason off. He'd never noticed how _sad_ that kinda is. Though he knows attention on him has drifted, he feels like his entire life choices are under a microscope.

Trina had not really been paying attention to the conversation (or Marvin's nervous breakdown) and wonders aloud, "What if I move Uncle Ray and his new girlfriend over to table three with Mrs. Sandburg? That's far enough away from his ex-wife. But then what am I going to do with—"

"I have a boyfriend." He doesn't process that the words have actually left his mouth until all voices fall dead silent and everyone's heads turn toward him in astonishment and confusion. Marvin considers playing off the comment as a joke, but he's growing more and more offended at the shocked and disbelieving expressions on everyone's faces.

"No you don't," Charlotte denies immediately, "Since when?"

"Yes, I do," Marvin confirms heatedly, "It's just that I haven't talked about him because, you know, it's...um, pretty new. We've been seeing each other for only about a month now."

"Marvin, this is a fantastic breakthrough!" Mendel exclaims, "I'm so proud that you've managed to finally accept who you are enough to put yourself out there. So do you—"

"Sweetheart," Trina hushes him gently, "He’s not your patient anymore. Now when you ask those questions, you sound creepy.”

Cordelia frowns and elbows him, pouting slightly, "I don't believe you. You totally would've at least told _me."_

"Um, I just...didn't think it was going to last as long as has been?" Marvin blurts out, scrambling for any semblance of logical reasoning, "I mean, he's, like, _way_ out of my league."

Charlotte narrows her eyes, "What's his name?" _Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit._

"Whizzer," The name flies from his mouth before he has a chance to smother it, "Whizzer Brown."

"Your awful neighbor?" Cordelia asks, her mouth agape, "You _hate_ him. You complain about him _non-stop."_

"Well, what can I say?" Marvin chuckles, hoping they don't hear his nervousness, "He won me over."

"Then by all means, bring him!" Mendel tells him brightly, ignoring the baffled and horrified look from Trina, "We can squeeze in an extra seat."

Marvin shakes his head hurriedly, "No, I couldn't. That'd be weird." He looks to Trina desperately, "Right, Trina? That'd be _weird."_

Trina looks like she's about to agree with him but then Mendel (winking at Marvin like he's doing him a _favor—_ the bastard) nudges her, so she sighs and throws her hands in the air, "Fine, fine. He can come." She mumbles to herself, "So my ex-husband _and_ his new boyfriend will be invited to my wedding. Isn't that what every bride-to-be dreams about having at her own wedding day?"

Marvin smiles even though he's screaming on the inside, "This is great news."

:: - ::

He pauses outside of Whizzer Brown's door, his hand raised but hesitant to knock. He should just call Trina back, tell her that Whizzer was weirded out and didn't want to go. But he could just see the _knowing_ looks that he'd receive, as if they could tell he was bullshitting them and now they had their proof. No, he has to at least _try._ He knocks on the door, swallowing his pride and just wanting to get this over with. He'll probably say no anyway; he'll laugh in his face and slam the door, and that'll be it. 

Whizzer opens his door, his cheeks blushed and clad only in a pair of underwear, "What? I'm _busy."_

Marvin immediately recoils, "I'll come back later. I didn't know you had company."

"I don't," He affirms, shrugging, "I was having some 'me-time.' Care to join me?"

Marvin can never tell when the man is serious or mocking him, so he doesn't respond to the question. Instead, he just says (quite eloquently), "My ex-wife is marrying my ex-psychiatrist." His sentence of punctuated by Whizzer slamming the door directly in his face. Marvin stares at the closed door with an expression of open shock. Hell, he expected Whizzer to slam the door in his face but it was a bit _earlier_ than anticipated.

The door reopens only moments later, revealing Whizzer now holding a half-empty bottle of scotch, "If you're looking for a shoulder to cry on, find someone else. If you're looking for a drink, come on in." Bemused, Marvin follows Whizzer into his apartment. He sits down on the couch and takes the glass that Whizzer hands him, watching as the man pours Marvin and then himself a drink. Whizzer sits down beside him, kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

They drink in relative silence before Marvin tries again to explain, "I didn't just come here for a drink."

Whizzer gives him a smug, lecherous smile, "I figured as much." He sits his own drink down and sidles up closer to Marvin, his hand moving higher and higher up his thigh—

"Whoa!" Marvin yelps in surprise, recoiling and spilling some of his drink, "I didn't come for _that_ either!"

Whizzer lets out a noise of frustration, "You have _got_ to be kidding me. I stopped masturbating for _this?"_

"I don't want your _pity fuck_ , Whizzer. Jesus," He sneers, "I just want you to pretend to be my boyfriend."

All indignation drops from Whizzer's face, replaced with an incredulous stare. "You _what?"_

"I'm invited to the wedding," He explains, "They caught me in a lie, and your name came up, and I _panicked..."_ He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Look, I told everyone that I had a boyfriend and now they want me to bring you to the wedding that's next weekend."

Whizzer continues to stare at him with utter bafflement, "Why did you say _my_ name?"

"Because you pissed me off this morning!" He tries to justify, not quite knowing the answer himself, "And you were the first gay guy that came to mind, okay? Now, is it a yes or no?"

Whizzer puts his chin in his hand, "Will there be an open bar?"

"I'm not sure about open," Marvin admits, adding reluctantly, "But I guess I'll pay for everything."

Whizzer makes a thoughtful noise, seeming to mull this over, "I _don't_ want to help you in any capacity whatsoever, but I _do_ like free drinks." He ponders for a little while longer before he finally sighs, "Oh what the hell? I'm all yours, Doll-face."

Marvin breathes out a sigh of relief, not quite believing that he'd actually agreed, "Okay. I'll pick you up next Saturday at two then."

"No, no, no," Whizzer shakes his head, looking Marvin up and down with a vague expression of disgust, "First, we are buying you a suit."

"I have plenty." He dismisses with a wave.

"Yeah, I've seen them. They look like shit," Whizzer states matter-of-factly, "I would _never_ date someone so abysmally dressed."

Marvin rolls his eyes, responding snidely, "Well, I'm just pleasantly surprised you even know what abysmal _means."_

"Now _there's_ the sorry sack of asshole I know and love." Whizzer mocks sardonically and then announces, "We're going shopping tomorrow. Come over here at five and I'll take you to my guy."

"You make it sound like a drug deal." Marvin points out, huffing slightly, "But I'm not spending money on something I already have several of."

Whizzer arches a superior eyebrow, "I am _not_ going with someone dressed like Paul Newman."

"Oh come on!" At Whizzer's hardened expression, Marvin sighs, throwing his hands up in the air, "Fine, fine. Jesus, I've never dated someone so high maintenance."

Whizzer makes his way over to the door, pulling it open and saying flatly, "Goodbye, Marvin." He leaves Whizzer's apartment, feeling even worse about this plan than before.

:: - ::

"Not that one."

Marvin resists the urge to scream, instead saying curtly, "This is the sixth one I've tried on. Just pick one."

Whizzer sighs, "I wish it were that simple."

"Trust me, _it is_. I've done it before." God, when he left Trina, he thought he'd left these days of trailing a hotheaded shopaholic and wishing for the sweet relief of death behind. Apparently he traded one evil queen for another.

 "How about this?" Whizzer holds up a dark navy blue suit. Marvin grabs it without any consideration whatsoever, praying that this one will suffice.

When he returns to the dressing room and tries it on, it immediately feels different than the ones before. It's still snug with Marvin still being able to breathe in the damn thing, and comfortable without it being an eyesore. Marvin sorta likes it himself, but he doubts Whizzer will feel the same. He exits the room, ready for the insults and derisive comments.

Whizzer is busying himself with more tie options, so he barely glances at first. But then he does a double-take, surprise and appreciation dawning on his typically critical face.

Marvin smiles smugly, "You like it?"

Whizzer shakes himself out of his daze, shrugging and saying evenly, "I guess it'll do." The ability to finally escape that hellhole is almost worth outrageous price of the suit. Almost.

"I'm starving," Marvin announces as they walk down the street, "Let's get a bite to eat."

Whizzer laughs, "Taking me out on a date?"

"No way," He says, "I can tell you're way too expensive for my taste."

"I like burger joints." He asserts with indignation.

For the first time, Marvin actually smiles sincerely at the prick, " _Finally,_ after all this time, you're speaking my language."

:: - ::

He expected the conversation to be stilted and awkward, but Marvin turns out to be (pleasantly) surprised. Whizzer is even meaner than Marvin, taking each insult with the grace of a prince and lobbing one straight back at him before Marvin has enough time to blink. They bicker and squabble about trivial matters, but Marvin is ashamed to admit that the negative nature of their conversation is never a problem. He likes a man that pushes back, who isn't afraid to roll with the punches and even land quite a few himself. There's even a couple times that Whizzer actually makes him laugh, a refreshing twist during the meal that startles both men.

They exit the elevator of their apartment building with wide grins and shining eyes. As they arrive at their separate doors, the men pause, glancing at each other. Marvin clears his throat, "Well, that wasn't terrible."

"Speak for yourself." Whizzer responds, staring at Marvin with a strange expression. Marvin has grown used to a cruel, calculating Whizzer Brown, one that mocks and snarls and bites. That twisted version of the man is gone right now, replaced by some newer model that Marvin hasn't had time to analyze and figure out.

For a stupid, fleeting second, Marvin thinks about inviting him inside, thinks about laying him down on his bed and taking him apart with his hands and teeth. The thought makes his groin stir in interest before he can seize the traitorous notion, locking it away in a box and crushing it in the back of his mind. _That would be a bad idea,_ he reminds himself, but the idea still lingers all the same. Of course, he's always found Whizzer attractive (how could he not?), but that doesn't mean he wants to sleep with him. Honestly, he _doesn't._ He swears. His mind and dick just isn't on the same page right now.

"Goodnight." Marvin says with a wave, unlocking his door and trying to leave as fast as he can before he does something _stupid._ He glances over at Whizzer out of the corner of his eye, confused at how the strange expression drips from his face immediately at his words.

"Yeah, see you around, _Honey."_ Whizzer dismisses, his voice cold and unflinching. 

Later that night, Marvin finally places what that odd expression on Whizzer's face was.

_Hunger._

:: - :: 

As Charlotte laughs yet again at one of Whizzer's stupid jokes, Marvin debates killing himself with his utensils. 

The wedding itself was _pretty_ and _nice_ and _disgusting_. Trina and Mendel exchanged vows with tears in their eyes, laughing and smiling like the other is their entire world. Meanwhile, Marvin sat stone-faced in his seat, his only piece of solace being Whizzer's hand on his knee. ( _"This bring back any memories?" Whizzer had asked, to which Marvin stoically replied, "Not really. I was black-out drunk during my entire wedding."_ ). 

At the reception, Marvin finishes another drink, motioning the waiter to keep them coming. Beside him, Whizzer's smile becomes strained, "Try to limit yourself, _Dear._ I don't want to have to drag your drunk ass home after this is over."

Marvin looks over at him, confessing bluntly, "You look really pretty tonight." And he does. His trimmed, stylish suit looks immaculate and precise. Marvin can hardly keep his eyes off of him.

Whizzer looks taken aback, but Charlotte just laughs and says, "Wow, Marvin. Your flirting might be in need of some tact."

"I don't need tact," Marvin throws an arm around Whizzer, "I already have him."

"Marvin doesn't know the meaning of tact and romance." Whizzed says, almost like it's a challenge.

To prove him wrong, Marvin plucks one rose from the bouquet that acts as their centerpiece, presenting it to him with an overly sappy smile. Whizzer grabs it and looks at it critically with disdain, "The only flower you've ever gotten me, and they're from your ex-wife's wedding decorations."

"I'm a romantic _and_ an opportunist."

Whizzer snickers, "I guess I hit the jackpot then."

Charlotte rolls her eyes, "Well, while you two keep flirting and being gross, I'm going to find Cordelia's dearest aunt. I think she got lost on her way to the bathroom."

Though she leaves, Marvin doesn't take his arm away from Whizzer's shoulder nor does Whizzer take his hand off of his thigh. Ever since that night, they'd been walking on eggshells around each other, too many words and feelings left unsaid due to pride and anxiety.

"You clean up nice yourself." Whizzer compliments him. Before Marvin can respond, Whizzer leans in and kisses him. It's a rough, desperate sort of kiss, one that makes Marvin gasp and tremble and respond with rash enthusiasm. 

Whizzer pulls back too soon, explaining, "Your ex-wife was looking over here. I thought you might want to give her a little show."

Marvin laughs, "You wanna 'sneak off' together and pretend to screw in the broom closet."

"You lost me at _pretend_." And well, what is he supposed to say to that?

"That night," Marvin admits slowly, still terribly afraid he's somehow read these signals wrong, "I wanted to invite you in. _Desperately."_

"You should've," Whizzer tells him, "I would've said yes."

Marvin nods, processing this information. After a beat, he asks, "Do you still hate me?"

"A little. You're a major asshole," Whizzer shrugs, scooting their chairs together even closer, "I still hate you, but not as much as I want to fuck you."

Marvin swallows hard, "How new is this development?"

"Marvin, I knew we were gonna screw eventually," He says dismissively, rolling his eyes at Marvin's surprised expression, "Oh please. I always thought about jumping your bones whenever we were alone together. I was just waiting for you to crack first." And Marvin loves winning—more than anything—but he thinks he might forfeit this one time. Letting Whizzer have the satisfaction, he gives in and kisses him.

"I am going to tear you apart." Whizzer declares wickedly as they pull apart.

Marvin raises an eyebrow, "Is that a threat?" 

Whizzer grins, and it's mean and predatory and everything that Marvin didn't know he needed until now, "More like a _promise."_

And maybe this is fleeting and irresponsible—getting so caught up in his chaotic, loud, _crazy_  next-door neighbor—but Marvin has never been one to shy away from a challenge.


	20. Day 20 - Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marvin can't dance, but Whizzer won't let him give up so easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you had a better day than me! Enjoy!

"Ow! You stepped on my foot _again."_ Marvin doesn't even both to mutter an apology this time, wearing an expression of pain and exhaustion as if he'd just ran twenty miles. The sharp ache in Whizzer's foot momentarily resides, but his intense exasperation remains. He knows that it's not Marvin's fault that he has two left feet, but Whizzer can only take so much abuse in stride before he starts to wonder if this is just a clever guise for his partner to air all of his grievances.

Whizzer sighs and beckons him closer, "Let's try again."

"Why do I need to do this?" He demands again, hiding his embarrassment at his inadequacy with annoyance.

"Maybe Trina was okay with you stomping around on the first dance of your wedding, but _I_ am not." Whizzer reminds him stubbornly, "We are going to be poised and fluid and good, _dammit."_

Marvin smiles lecherously at him, lacing his arms around Whizzer's neck, "Your passion is intoxicating."

Whizzer redirects his incoming kiss by chastely kissing the corner of his mouth, "Your distracting technique needs work. Now let's go again."

Marvin groans, "God, you're a pain in the ass. Remind me why I want to spend the rest of my life with you again?”

"You want it back?" Whizzer teases, twisting the glistening band around his finger.

"Nah, I already paid for it." Marvin says, feigning indifference, "It would be a pity to see it go to waste."

" _You're_ stalling." Whizzer points out, pushing him back.                   

Marvin catches his hand and pulls their chests flushed together, " _You're_ handsome."

"Less flirting, more dancing." 

" _Fine,"_ Marvin concedes, resuming their previous position, "I swear I won't step on your foot this time."

"Marv, don't make promises you can't keep."

Marvin glances down at the teeny tiny band on Whizzer's finger, smiling slightly, "I don't intend to."


	21. Day 21 - Cooking/Baking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whizzer thinks he's an amazing cook. Marvin doesn't have the heart to tell him otherwise.

Their apartment door slams open, revealing a frazzle-haired and wearisome-stricken Cordelia. Dramatically, she brushes past Marvin and Whizzer and flops face-first onto their couch.

"We should really start locking our door." Whizzer whispers to Marvin as they both reluctantly walk toward her.

"Anything wrong?" Marvin asks delicately.

"Oh, it's nothing," Cordelia's flat, emotionless voice is muffled by the cushion, "Just that my business is going to fail and my life will subsequently fall apart."

 _"Fine_ , tell us what happened." Whizzer beckons after a moment of strained silence.

Cordelia flips herself over and covers her eyes with her forearm, "I have a huge event tomorrow and my helper flaked out on me at the last second. Something about her going into _labor_ or whatever. Ugh, heteros are _so_ self-absorbed." She sighs, "I have _no one_ to help me prepare the dozens of meals. I can't do it all by myself. I have to cancel last minute."

"Hey, I could help," Whizzer offers, prompting Marvin to balk at him.

"Would you really?" Cordelia asks, hope dripping into her voice.

"Sure," He shrugs, "I mean, I have _some_ experience in the kitchen. I've been cooking for his picky ass a long time."

"Oh my god, I _love_ you!" Cordelia jumps up, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug, "You are my knight in shining armor, Whizzer Brown."

"I've been told that several times." He dismisses with a smirk.

"Change into some old clothes and meet me in my apartment," Cordelia practically jumps to the door, murmuring to herself, "Damn, days like this, I almost believe in God."

"Well, our racquetball game is shot," Whizzer tells Marvin on the way to the bedroom, "All or nothing tomorrow then, yeah?"

"Whizzer," Marvin phrases his words carefully, "Are you sure that helping Cordelia is the best idea?"

"You saw the girl, Marv," Whizzer responds, pulling his own shirt off and changing into one of Marvin's old shirts, "She looked so pathetic. I can't _not_ help her. Besides, I get to show off my housewife skills, huh?" He's smiling brightly at him, and Marvin doesn't have to heart to tell him the truth.

Whizzer is a terrible cook—and Marvin means _terrible_ ; even the _mice_ don't touch the scraps discarded on the counters. He can't even make a turkey sandwich for Marvin's lunch without it tasting vaguely of rotten feet. The man has _no_ cooking skills whatsoever, and even after _years_ of experience in the kitchen, Marvin still can't help but sometimes spit his food into his napkin when Whizzer isn't looking.

Because Marvin doesn't have the heart to tell him that. Their first year together, Marvin made the mistake of comparing Whizzer to his ex-wife at every turn, criticizing Whizzer's lack of skill at playing housewife nearly every day. It's a wonder they didn't break up sooner than they did, but their two-year separation sobered Marvin up to his less-than-stellar attitude. Unsurprisingly, after they'd gotten back together, Marvin never had the balls to say, _"Hey, Whizzer, I appreciate you cooking for me every night, but it's complete shit. Seriously, I would rather eat Trina's two-week-old leftovers than anything you touch."_ No, Marvin has been trying hard  _not_ to be so much of an asshole. 

But apparently his attempt at being a nice guy bit him in the ass. _He's going to poison all of those wedding guests,_ Marvin realizes with horror, _Cordelia might lose her business after all._ He _can't_ let that happen. However, he can't let Whizzer find out he's a god-awful cook either.

"I guess I'll help, too." Marvin suggests casually.

Whizzer scoffs derisively, "No offense, Marvin, but I doubt you have any skill in the kitchen." _Well, that'd make two of us._

Marvin rolls his eyes, "Let me try at least."

"I guess it wouldn't hurt," Whizzer concedes, mocking, "But I'm keeping my eye on you. We can't mess this up." And Marvin agrees with that whole-heartedly.

:: - :: 

For the following three hours, Marvin watches Whizzer like a hawk, trying to mitigate every wrong the second his partner turns his back. He pours salt and pepper into each dish even _looked at_ by Whizzer, praying that the spice might cover up the sheer _awfulness_ of the taste. Luckily (or perhaps unluckily), Cordelia never tasted Whizzer's dishes, so preoccupied with getting all the orders filled that she trusted him implicitly. It’s utterly exhausting to go behind Whizzer’s back and still seem supportive, so he eventually decides that he _needs_ back-up.

This back-up involves hiding in Cordelia's bathroom and groveling on the phone to Trina.

"Please," Marvin wheedles, "Trina, I've never asked you for anything—"

"I know," Trina scoffs, "You didn't even _ask_ me to marry you. I showed you the pregnancy test and joked, 'I guess this means we gotta get hitched,' and you so romantically responded, _'Fine, but let's wait until the Super Bowl season is over.'_ " 

"This isn't about me," Marvin snaps, "This is about Cordelia getting a horrible review and breaking her heart. Trina, I _need_ you."

"Fine, fine!" Trina concedes, "You're lucky that I'm lonely and bored."

"Isn't that your only mood?" Marvin scoffs, but he makes sure that Trina had already hung up.

:: - ::

"What is she doing here?" Whizzer asks as Trina starts fluttering around the kitchen with Cordelia.

"I thought we could use all hands on deck." Marvin explains casually, but Whizzer doesn't seem to buy it. He doesn't make any move to question him outright, however, until it becomes quite obvious that Trina is double-checking Whizzer's work and practically stealing orders right from under him. Marvin can see him getting more frustrated and suspicious, glancing periodically over at Marvin with heated eyes. Each time, Marvin just smiles sweetly at him, kisses his cheek and hopes that they can get through this afternoon with their relationship intact.

Finally, Whizzer has enough, stealing the mixing bowl back from Trina's thieving grasp and snapping, "I'm doing this, okay? You're not the only one who can rotate a wooden spoon around. _Or will I mess that up, too?"_

"I was just offering some help." Trina lies but almost subconsciously her eyes flicker to Marvin, and he can pinpoint the very moment that Whizzer figures it out. He thrusts the bowl back in Trina's hands, "You do it then. Apparently I'm not good enough. Big _fucking_ surprise there."

Marvin follows Whizzer as he storms out of Cordelia's apartment, saying quietly, "Whizzer, that's not what—"

"Why did you embarrass me like that?" He demands, whirling around, "If my food is good enough for you, why can't—"

"Your food is awful," Marvin shouts, unable to take it anymore, "It's the grossest, least appetizing thing I've ever put in my mouth. Whizzer, I can't let Cordelia's catering suffer because I can't tell you the truth."

Whizzer looks shell-shocked, only hearing half of Marvin's words, "You _hate_ it? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to hurt your feelings." He admits helplessly, shrugging.

"Well, _good fucking job_ there." Whizzer slams their apartment door behind him, locking it before Marvin can follow him inside. Defeated, he goes back to Cordelia's and tries not to mess it up like he already has his life.

An hour later, Marvin knocks tentatively at the door, "Whizzer, can I come in? We're finished. Cordelia says thanks for the help. She really appreciated it." He pauses, "And Trina told me to tell you that she hopes you don't hate her; she was just doing what I asked her to do."

"Door's unlocked." He hears Whizzer's muffled, quiet voice. Gearing himself up for the fight he knows is inevitable, Marvin enters their apartment.

Whizzer is laying down on the couch, face upturned to the ceiling. Before Marvin can have the first say, he says plainly, "I'm sorry for getting so mad. You were only trying to help Cordelia." And _Whizzer_ apologizing to _him_? Now that's unexpected.

"I shouldn't have treated you like a toddler," Marvin tells him, "You deserved my honesty, and I wasn't man enough to give you that. I'm sorry, Kid." Whizzer leans up so Marvin can sit down, laying his head on his lap. Almost apologetically, he threads a hand through Whizzer's hair.

There's a few moments of silence before Whizzer smiles wryly and prompts, "So I'm not the only one who thinks my cooking is shit?"

"You _knew?"_

"I thought that every cook thinks their own cooking is terrible," Whizzer shrugs, "Something to do with science and psychology or whatever. They did a study on it; I think Jason told me that."

Marvin smiles, "Well, it wasn't just you. Remember that meatloaf you made a few weeks ago? After forcing myself to eat that, I didn't shit right for a week."

Whizzer laughs, looking up at him, "I guess it's sorta sweet that you kept eating my food."

"I have my moments." Marvin leans down and kisses him, not quite believing he'd gotten off the hook so easily.

"I'm _beyond_ pissed that you embarrassed me in front of Cordelia and Trina, by the way." Whizzer informs him, "I'll let you know when I formulate the suitable punishment."

Marvin sighs. He just can't win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next prompt is "in battle, side-by-side" and idk WHAT I'm going to do there. I guess tomorrow we'll all be in for a surprise. (If you have suggestions, feel free to share them).


	22. Day 22 - In Battle, Side-By-Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marvin and Whizzer have way too much fun with Jason's birthday present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout-out to HetaliaVocaloidHamiltonTrash for the inspiration. I'm not crazy about this one, but it's literally the best I could do with such a weird prompt for this pairing.

"No, go left! Not right!" Marvin yells, jostling Whizzer with his shoulder.

"Worry about your own self, huh?" Whizzer bites back, his upper body leaning even further toward the television screen with his fingers working like lightning on his controller.

"We're on the same team." He reminds him scathingly, "If you die, our points don't—"

" _Don't_ start explaining. I'm _sick_ of explaining!" Very narrowly, Whizzer misses a damning blow from the enemy, giving Marvin a heart attack.

"Less fighting, more playing." Marvin instructs curtly, prompting Whizzer to roll his eyes.

"Hey, get that power-up! It's on your left."

Marvin's focus zeroes in on the power-up, so much so that he doesn't even notice the enemy behind him until the annoyingly flashy Game Over screen cuts off their gameplay.

"We were so close!" Whizzer complains, tempted to chuck this controller at Marvin's head, "What were you _doing?"_

"I listened to you! My bad, it _won't_ happen again." Marvin goes to press start when they hear Jason's petulant voice behind them.

"Are you guys done playing with _my_ birthday present yet?" Realizing that they are both grown men, they both shoot him apologetic smiles and reluctantly hand him each controller.

"Had to make sure it was parent approved," Marvin lies, adding seriously, "And I don't like how it incites violent thoughts. I wanted to kill Whizzer like _six times."_

"Isn't that like _every other day?"_ Jason counters flatly, unamused.

Whizzer laughs and pushes Marvin aside, asking, "Can I play with you, Jason? I bet we can get a lot farther without your dad's dead weight."

"Yeah, sure," Jason says, ignoring Marvin's hurt expression.

"Who bought this thing, huh?" He reminds them, but they don't pay any attention to him. They've already become absorbed in the game, laughing and yelling and immediately having a great time. Marvin goes to slink pathetically out of the living room when Jason says, "Hey, Dad?"

Marvin turns, hopeful, "Yeah, Buddy?"

"Can you get me a soda from the kitchen?"

"I'll take a cold beer, Marv." Whizzer chips him, flashing him a victorious smirk.  _Seven times,_ Marvin makes a mental tally mark on his way to the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Tomorrow and Tuesday will be the last continuation of the College AU in this story, but I have an announcement tomorrow that will make a lot of people happy).


	23. Day 23 - Arguing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A snippet in which Marvin's parents visit, Marvin readopts his old Straight Man Persona, and Whizzer struggles with his feelings. College AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alt. Summary: ANGST. ANGST. EVEN MORE ANGST.   
> This one-shot is more like a snippet because GOOD NEWS THIS COLLEGE AU WILL BECOME ITS OWN STORY WITH LIKE AN ACTUAL PLOT AND CHARACTER ARCS SOMETIME AFTER THIS 30 DAY CHALLENGE IS OVER. I haven't written it yet, but I have made a concise outline which I am VERY happy with. Thank you for the support, and I hope you enjoy this.

"Neurotic boyfriend for sale," Trina announces as she and Marvin walk into Cordelia and Charlotte's apartment, "Any takers?"

From his stretched out position on couch, Whizzer pauses in his Stats homework, offering, "I have five dollars."

Trina nods, "Sold." Whizzer waggles his eyebrows at Marvin, though he seems too spaced out to give him more than a withering look.

"My parents are visiting," Marvin tells them tightly, collapsing on the cushion right beside Whizzer, "So that means I have to replace the beer in my fridge with vegetables and scatter sheets of lecture notes around the apartment and pretend I have a single fucking _clue_ what I'm going to do after I graduate."

"I'm _so_ glad my parents live too far away." Cordelia sighs, and she launches into a series of comedic anecdotes of her hypochondriac mess of a mother. Whizzer's attention is subverted by Marvin pressed so close to him, the heat of his body radiating like a furnace.

He asks lowly under his breath, "How long are they in town?"

"Thursday through Tuesday," He murmurs back, and the implication is clear. _Don't come over._

Whizzer smirks, mocking quietly, "Think you can last that long?" Marvin rolls his eyes at him, but he knows better than to respond with any specifics lest prying ears overhear.

Whizzer tries to redirect his focus on Cordelia and Trina's banter, but he can't take his attention off of the way Marvin's entire composure is stretched taut beside him. He knows that overbearing parents visiting can be stressful and all, but Marvin seems almost completely uncoiled at the notion. He wonders if Marvin is scared that they'll take one look at him and just  _know,_ as if he’ll have the word _Queer!_ painted on his forehead. The kind part of Whizzer wants to put a hand on his shoulder and tell him it'll be okay, but he shakes that idea off immediately. After all, it isn't _his_ job to look after the anxious man; he has a doting girlfriend for that.

"Well, _I_ think Marv's parents are really nice." Trina informs them, looking pointedly at her boyfriend.

Marvin scoffs, "You didn't live with them for eighteen years."

Sensing rising tensions, Charlotte changes the subject, and the rest of the afternoon is wasted through meaningless banter and light-hearted conversation. Throughout each topic of conversation, Trina glances over at Marvin and Whizzer, an silent question poised on her lips. It’s surprised everyone that Whizzer and Marvin have started to get along so well (all except Charlotte, who watches the two with pursed lips and disappointment in her eyes), but Trina has been the most dubious of the new friendship. Whizzer knows that she's already pressed Marvin on it, but he's always brushed her off every time Whizzer's name is even _mentioned._ As he looks at her out of the corner of his eye, he can almost _see_ the gears straining in her mind. She knows that something else is going on here, but she can't seem to figure out just what it is.

Whizzer idly returns to his homework, acutely aware of her haunting eyes trained on him.

:: - ::

Later that night, as he's walking home from a moderately satisfying fuck, the loud ringtone of his phone cuts through the eerie silence of the streets. He glances down at it, immediately surprised at the name that flashes across the screen.

"Marvin?" He says dubiously, "Why are you calling me in the middle of the night?"

"Why are _you_ still awake?" Marvin responds coldly, and _great,_ he's in a _mood,_ "Did I interrupt you in the middle of your screw or has the random guy thrown you out of his apartment already?"

"No, he's still going," Whizzer makes a point to modulate his voice to appear breathless and hoarse, "You want me to put him on the phone?" Knowing by his lack of an immediate response that he isn't in the mood for this kind of banter, Whizzer rolls his eyes and adds, "Marvin, I'm kidding. Jeez, learn to take a joke."

"I don't know why I called _you,"_ Marvin laughs a little, but his voice is thick with a less than happy emotion, "God, how _pathetic_ am I? I should be talking to my _girlfriend_ about this. Not my—" He cuts himself off. Whizzer's glad that he does; this isn't the time nor place for _that_ mess of a conversation.

He softens his voice, "Do you want me to come over?"

"No, Trina is here," Marvin says hurriedly, "She's asleep in the bedroom. I'm outside my building—Needed some fresh air." 

"Okay," Whizzer replies, his tone still possessing a questioning lilt, "Then _what_ is it you want from me?"

"Nothing," But Whizzer doesn't believe that, and this is proven true when Marvin adds, "Just...someone to talk to, I guess."

Whizzer ventures, "About your parents?"

"You think _I'm_ cold?" Marvin laughs, though his voice holds no jovial inflection whatsoever, "You should spend one minute with my mom; talk about _ice._ And my dad—he's so stuffed with anti-depressants, it's like talking to a brick wall nowadays. You know, I can tell you exactly what they're going to say to me when..." And Marvin talks for almost an hour, as if unable to even _stop_ now that the floodgates have opened. Whizzer nods along and butts in every once in awhile, but at one point, he's already home and undressed and he wants to go to _sleep._

"Marvin," Whizzer cuts him off with a yawn, "I have Stats early tomorrow morning."

"Oh," Marvin says distantly, as if he's just become aware of the late hour, "Yeah, okay. I should go back inside anyway."

"And hey," Whizzer prompts before the other man can hang up, "I just wanna say...You don't have to _change_ for them, you know? If they don't like you—the _real_ you, they can piss off. You shouldn't have to—you know, wear this _mask_ all the time and put up this huge _wall_ around yourself. It'll get lonely; _trust me_. I mean, it already is, isn't it?"

There's a pause of silence before Marvin says quietly, "It's not that easy." And _Whizzer_ of all people knows that, but he understands where Marvin is coming from. Maybe that's why he called him instead of talking to someone like Trina; at least, Whizzer hopes that's the only reason.

Whizzer just sighs, resigned, "Goodnight, Marvin." After he hangs up, he stretches out on his shitty mattress and looks up at his ceiling fan, letting the blur of motion lull him into sleep.

:: - ::

Sunday night, he realizes how _majorly_ he fucked up. He scours his entire apartment for his World Civ flash cards until finally he recalls exactly where they are: shuffled away on Marvin's bookshelf. He hesitates to go over straight away, but the pressing deadline of the test being tomorrow morning looms over him like a dark cloud of sulfur and brimstone. _Fuck it,_ Whizzer thinks to himself and just goes over to Marvin's apartment. He brings the key that Marvin gave him on the off chance that God is real and Marvin with his visiting parents have stepped away for the evening. 

Whizzer knocks on the door, praying for no answer. His prayers go unsurprisingly unfulfilled as Trina opens the door and cheerfully greets, "Whizzer! What are you doing here?" Within the apartment, Whizzer hears the loud scraping of a wooden chair against a tiled floor. He knows immediately that Marvin is _not_ happy.

"I forgot my World Civ flash cards here." Whizzer explains simply, ignoring Trina's baffled look. He doesn't offer any unnecessary bullshit excuse as to why they're in _Marvin's apartment_ of all places, and Trina thankfully doesn't press him.

Out of nowhere, Marvin appears at the doorframe, pushing the flash cards into his hands and saying almost desperately, "There." _Now leave_  is left unsaid but implied.

"Who is this?" Whizzer hears a man's gravelly voice before an older gentleman steps into view. He has Marvin's nose and mouth, but his wide eyes of melancholy and exhaustion provide such a stark contrast to Marvin's scathing, hateful gaze. _This must be his father,_ Whizzer's mind supplies, but he can hardly see any resemblance between the men’s' composures and mannerisms. While Marvin is arrogant and boastful, this man seems reserved and docile, walking through the room with his body turned within itself as if he's afraid to disturb the air around him.

"This is my— _friend."_ The word gets stuck in Marvin's throat, and he suddenly becomes _very_ pale _very_ quickly.

"Hello," Marvin's father smiles, like the action _pains_ him, "We just sat down for supper. Would you like to join us? Trina here made plenty."

"No, I honestly can't—" But his treacherous stomach plots against him, moaning at the mere mention of food like some melodramatic porn star. Distantly, he realizes that he hasn't eaten in the last eighteen hours save for two granola bars.

"Marvin, just invite the boy in already!" A woman's muffled voice commands, "The food is getting cold." And every fiber of fight leaves Marvin at this woman's voice. Trying not to openly scowl, he opens the door wider and beckons him inside.

When Whizzer enters the kitchen, he is greeted by the sight of a mere slight of a woman. Though she is small and thin in stature, she effortlessly commands the room with her self-possessed, almost _suffocating_ presence. As soon as he steps into her range of sight, she rakes her eyes over him critically. Forming an immediate impression of him, a corner of her mouth twists, looking at him like he's a dead rat.  _Now_ this _is Marvin's mother,_ he doesn't even have to convince himself of the fact. 

Trina, Marvin, and Marvin's father each take their seat, leaving Whizzer the chair right beside Trina. Giving no indication that he feels the tension dripping in the air, Whizzer fetches a plate from the kitchen cabinet and starts filling it with food.

"He seems to know his way around here quite well." Marvin's mother makes the offhanded comment, and it seems harmless enough but Marvin _flinches_ like she's just slapped him.

"We're friends." Marvin explains tightly as he and Whizzer finally make eye contact. Taking one look at the man, Whizzer knows that he didn't take his advice to heart. Marvin has transformed back into his former shell of a self, stapled this ill-fitted persona to his skin as he continually tries to hide the cracks in the façade. Whizzer has spent the last several months mapping each nook and crevice on this man's body, but at this very moment, Marvin might as well have been a stranger to him.

Whizzer adopts a chill he just can't shake throughout the entire meal.

:: - ::

Whizzer feels like a passive observer as he watches the dynamics of those around him. Marvin's parents dote on Trina, every word directed in her direction being some form of glowing compliment. By contrast, they are curt and strangely formal with their own son. His mother makes mere small talk with him that reminds Whizzer of how one talks to a stranger. Meanwhile, his father simply stares down at his untouched plate more often than not, his mind far away from here.

Marvin smiles and charms and lies his way throughout the meal, readily putting on this mask that his parents have forged for him. He pretends to be enraptured by Trina and plays along with his mother's unrealistic envision of his future. And he fits into this role of obedient son and charming boyfriend so _effortlessly,_ Whizzer starts to wonder if Marvin could theoretically put up this act for the rest of his life. But then he notices the bags under Marvin's eyes, the edge in every single one of his easy smiles, the tension in his squared shoulders. _How exhausting it must be,_ he thinks, _to be so aware and calculated in your every word and movement._

Whizzer finishes his meal as quickly as he can, standing up abruptly and saying, "Well, this was great and all, but I _really_ need to study."

Marvin stands up as well, "I'll walk you out." Whizzer goes to decline, but he realizes that Marvin must be  _dying_ for an excuse to get away from here. He lets Marvin lead the way, ignoring the three pairs of eyes that follow the two men until they leave the apartment. He half-expects Marvin to start yelling at him the second the door closes behind them, but Marvin doesn't say a single word. Instead, he simply brushes past Whizzer and walks leisurely to the elevator, though the tension in his coiled body remains. Quite suddenly, Whizzer realizes that he _really_ doesn't want to be alone with this man right now. Seeing no way out of it, however, he reluctantly gets into the elevator with him, pressing the button to take them to the ground floor.

They are shrouded in uncomfortable silence before Marvin finally blurts out in a hurried, scathing voice, "You don't get to _lecture_ me, alright?"

"I didn't say anything." Whizzer points out stiffly. An uneasy pause settles between them before Whizzer just can't take it anymore. He maintains a clear, emotionless voice as he says casually, "So was that your trademarked Straight Man persona then? I bet that took some time to cultivate _just_ right."

"Don't," Marvin instructs flatly, "Don't pretend you _know_ me." And Whizzer doesn't know why, but it _hurts_ to hear him say that.

"So that emotionless zombie was the real you?" Whizzer bites out, "Wow, good to know." He sighs, and he _knows_ it isn't his place, but he still adds, "God, how could you let them _talk_ to you like that—"

"Because I'm not _like_ you, Whizzer," And under that mixture of fury and exasperation, Whizzer hears a sense of defeat in the man's voice, "I don't have that 'fuck what other people think' attitude. I actually  _care,_ alright? And honestly, is that really such a _bad_ thing?"

"It is when you're _destroying_ yourself," He motions to his defeated posture, "I mean, Jesus Christ, Marvin, _look at you!_ Is something so _useless_ as yours parents' approval worth killing yourself over?"

"At least _my_ parents want something to do with me!"

The low blow is so unexpected and dirty, Whizzer actually flinches. Sensing he's crossed a line, Marvin softens, but he doesn't apologize. He _never_ apologizes. Even when he knows he’s wrong.

It takes a few seconds for Whizzer to regain control of his voice, but when he does, he makes sure it sounds as cold and brittle as ice, "You think you're so much _better_ , don't you? You're so much _smarter_ than me, Marvin. You're so much more _successful_ than me, Marvin. You're so superior at _everything,_ aren't you?" He takes a step closer, bring their chests close together, "But _you_ get on your knees for _me_ again and again. You _beg_ for it _time_ after _time_ —why is that, I wonder?” Marvin’s muscles clench tighter and tighter, but he holds his tongue. Whizzer presses on, wanting something— _anything_ at all that proves he’s gotten under his skin, “And how would Mommy and Daddy react if they saw you like that, huh? Do you think they’d believe me if I told them all about it?" He raises his voice to a yell, "Hey Everybody, _Marvin sucks my c—"_

 _Finally,_ Marvin shoves Whizzer against the wall, slapping a firm hand over his mouth. Pain erupts in Whizzer's back, but he barely registers the sting through his fury. He removes the hand as soon as Whizzer cuts off, but he keeps their bodies pinned together. With a pang, he’s reminded of that first time in the small closet at a stranger’s house. It seems like that happened an entire lifetime ago, though he knows it hasn’t even been a year.

Marvin's face is still just inches away from his, and Whizzer feels fear beginning to coil in his stomach, _"Enough."_

"Or what?" Whizzer taunts in a low voice, and he _wants_ him to hit him. He wants the sting of a busted lip, needs the distraction to the turmoil brewing in his chest. But Marvin doesn't look as angry as Whizzer feels; he seems heartbroken at Whizzer's words, as if something _actually_ brought the High and Mighty Marvin down a peg.

"You think I _give a damn_ about you?" Whizzer whispers, and Marvin takes his words like a punch in the gut, "You're just an easy fuck, Marvin. That's all you are to me. We aren't boyfriends. We aren't even close."

The elevator door opens to the ground floor, and the boys quickly separate. Whizzer goes to bolt, but Marvin clamps a firm hand around his wrist, "Wait. I need to hear you say it again." Whizzer turns around to face him. Marvin's eyes are closed, his furious breathing slowly evening out. Whizzer hesitates, but then he thinks of his parents and his heart freezes over.

"You mean _nothing_ to me." 

Marvin nods, letting the words wash over him. He straightens his posture, all previous emotions of fury and heartbreak wiped from his face. He's slipped the mask back on. _Good,_ Whizzer thinks to himself, _it suits him._

Marvin lets him go, and Whizzer walks away and doesn’t look back. He hails a cab easily, and it's only when he leans against the rough leather of the backseat that he processes what just happened.

"Hey, Buddy, you okay?" The cab driver asks.

Whizzer's too emotionally strung out to lie, "Not really.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tomorrow will be the last continuation of this for a pretty considerable amount of time (at least a few weeks). RIP. Also, I didn't not pull the characterization of Marvin's parents out of thin air, if anyone was wondering. I got inspiration from the song "Your Lips and Me" from In Trousers ("Your mother reports your father's blue, Dear / And your father reports he's fine / Your mother withheld her love from you, Dear").


	24. Day 24 - Making Up Afterwards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After cooling down, Marvin and Whizzer come to a truce. College AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to be way longer and, you know, BETTER, but Stuff™ happened. Anyway, ENJOY THIS LAST INSTALLMENT UNTIL I ACTUALLY WRITE IT.

Whizzer doesn't see Marvin again for an entire _week._

He's tried to make sure of that, of course—He's purposefully been avoiding the man in every way possible. He changed his normal routes to his classes, he stopped going to the same café for lunch, and he even cancelled _more than once_ on Cordelia and Charlotte when he knew Marvin and Trina would be there. Not that his efforts seem to have mattered anyway. Marvin hasn't tried to contact him in any way since that night. In fact, it seems that Whizzer isn't the only one going out of his way to avoid the other, if Cordelia's off-handed comment on how _weird_ Marvin's behavior has been is any indication. 

This fact shouldn't make Whizzer feel as empty as it does.

"Did you guys break up?" Charlotte asks one night when they're in a room alone together.

Whizzer tenses, pointing out, "We were never _together_ in the first place." And the hard edge in his voice makes it clear that all further conversation on the topic is off-limits.

As the days trickle by, Whizzer becomes increasingly bereft at the lack of pleading and wheedling and simply _talking_ on Marvin's part. Throughout their entire relationship, _Marvin_ has been the pursuer, _Marvin_ has called him and beckoned him and essentially  _chased after him_. Whizzer hasn't been playing hard to get by any means, but he's always made Marvin be the one to first initiate anything. He thought surely _by now_ Marvin would have cooled down and let his horniness override his pride, which has happened after all of their other previous arguments. Though it _is_ true that this fight was more vicious and spiteful than the preceding ones, Whizzer didn't _think_ —

Well, he didn't think that it would mean they were _over._

Whizzer hates how he jumps each time his text message tone sounds, how his heart drops when he reads the name and realizes it isn't _him._  He hates feeling so anxious, turning over the short but volatile argument in his head time after time and analyzing each twitch of Marvin's facial muscles. He hates the...the _silence_ of it all. He would give _anything_ to lessen the defeating quiet that threatens to swallow him whole no matter where he goes.

And he misses Marvin; hell, he knows that he's a little self-deluded, but he isn't _that_ stubborn to not admit that. And it's only been a week. _Pull it together, Brown. Jesus Christ._

:: - :: 

It isn't until the end of that seventh day that Whizzer realizes _why_ Marvin hasn't been chasing after him. But when he does, his feet carry him straight to Marvin's front door.

:: - :: 

Whizzer starts talking as soon as Marvin opens the door, "You're an ass."

Marvin simply blinks at him, obviously _baffled_ at the intrusion and undecided how to approach the situation, "Uh—okay."

Whizzer stands there expectantly, but when Marvin just _stares_ at him, like he's somehow forgotten what he looks like and is now trying to recommit every slope of his body to memory, he sighs exasperatedly with the slightest trace of a smile, "Just invite me in already, Marvin."

Marvin seems to finally come back to his senses then. He opens his door wider and allows him to enter the apartment. Whizzer waits until he hears the door shut to turn around to face him, declaring firmly, "I didn't break up with you, you know." _'Break up'_ is the wrong terminology, they both know, but it's the closest that Whizzer could come up with in order to explain.

"That wasn't what that was," Whizzer tries to clarify further, becoming increasingly nervous as Marvin's expression remains unchanged, "I said some stuff, sure—we both did—but we were just fighting, you know? That's what we _do,_ isn't it?" Marvin doesn't respond, and desperation slowly leaks into Whizzer's voice.

"You know, I didn't _mean_ those things I said," He pauses, correcting himself sheepishly, "Well, I didn't mean _some_ of them." Still lacking a reaction from the man, Whizzer sighs and tries again, struggling for words, "Marvin, you know that I—that you...you mean _something_ to me, right? I didn't mean to imply—I mean, I was just so _pissed_ and—and you said some bad shit yourself, you know. You were _just_ as much of an asshole as I was. And I just—I hope that you know that I’m…” He can’t bring himself to finish the sentence, hoping Marvin isn’t cruel enough to make him _say it._

Marvin just stares at him, vacant and unresponsive. And well, he guesses that he got his answer then. Feeling stupid and rejected and exposed, Whizzer decides to just give up and push past him on his way to the door. Marvin grabs his hand, and before Whizzer can scowl and pull away, he speaks.

"I shouldn't have thrown your parents in your face like that." He says quietly, "That was shit of me. I know that...that _losing_ them wasn't easy on you." And it's not quite an apology, but it's close enough.

Whizzer scoffs, flashing a self-deprecating smile that feels wobbly on his face, "Who needs 'em, right?" He brushes the thought of them off, just as they brushed him off nearly two years ago.

Marvin smiles and softens his grip on his hand, lacing their fingers together. The action is too sweet and intimate for what they have between them, and under any other circumstance, Whizzer would have brushed him off with a scoff. Right now, however, he leans closer to him, feeling Marvin's hot breath on his collarbone. 

Marvin snakes an arm around Whizzer's waist and pulls them chest-to-chest. Sighing in relief, Whizzer ducks down to kiss him, but Marvin jerks his head away at the very last second. He tilts his head up and whispers in his ear, almost _begging,_ "Tell me again."

"What?" Whizzer laughs breathlessly, kissing his jawline, "That you _mean_ something to me? Jesus, Marvin, don't let it go to your head. It doesn't mean _that_ much."

Marvin grins like he's just _won_ something, tilting his head back and tangling a hand in Whizzer's hair, "It means enough."

:: - ::

A few hours later, as they lay cramped and entangled on Marvin's shitty couch, naked and sated, they don't talk about what happened before. Maybe they should—after all, several wounds are currently left untreated, exposed to viscous infection that could occur any time in the form of a careless word or barbed insinuation—but they're young and mean and they don't give a flying fuck about the problems that lie just on the horizon. Marvin keeps trying to make him laugh— _desperately_ —and Whizzer refuses to give him the satisfaction, biting his lip to keep the treacherous snickers at bay.

 _And it isn't perfect,_ Whizzer thinks as he tries to smother his laughter in Marvin's mussed hair, _but right now, it's enough._


	25. Day 25 - Gazing Into Each Others' Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A staring contest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is really short, but I just got home like thirty minutes ago and it's already 10:00pm here and yeah. Here you go.

Marvin stares deeply into Whizzer's eyes, watching as the many turbulent shades of brown glister in the fluorescent lighting. Experimentally, Marvin lunges his head forward to provoke a reaction, but Whizzer doesn't even flinch. He seems perfectly composed for a man who hasn't blinked in almost thirty whole seconds; meanwhile, Marvin himself is barely hanging on, feeling his own unwavering eyes redden and sting with each passing moment. He tries to think of another way to distract him ( _no touching allowed,_ they had agreed) but just as he's brainstorming, he feels a small gust of wind from Whizzer's mouth strike his eyes, prompting him to inadvertently blink.

"That doesn't count," Marvin protests, rubbing his raw eyes, "You cheated!"

"Oh come on," Whizzer blinks rapidly, wiping the stray tear from his own sensitive eyes, "Don't be a sore loser."

"But I don't _want_ to wash the dishes. It was your turn anyway," Marvin complains, glancing at their apartment door and adding, "All or nothing, huh? I'll race you to the ground floor. Winner has to clean the dishes _and_ vacuum."

Whizzer scoffs, "Marvin, when's the last time you ran? Freshmen year of high school?"

Marvin recoils, a tad bit offended, "Are you calling me _fat?"_

Whizzer snickers and pulls Marvin closer to him, teasing, "Don't worry about it. I like a man with meat on his bones." He ducks his head as if to kiss him, but at the very last second, Whizzer shoves him back and takes of racing out of the apartment.

"Cheater!” Marvin points out, racing after him.


	26. Day 26 - Getting Married

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Mendel's voice* Homosexuals with a teeny tiny WEDDING band.

At the sight of bright white tulips adorning the dozen of white tables, Marvin very nearly screams.

"I ordered _light blue azaleas,"_ He tells the delivery man in what he _thought_ was the nicest way he could muster, but the young man still seems to shrink at his thunderous expression, "Do these  _look_ like azaleas?"

"I just do what I'm told," The man says passively, swallowing hard, "If—If you want, you can call the company, and we can try to correct—"

"Well, I _would_ do that if you weren't _five hours late already."_ Marvin plans to berate him further, but he hears Cordelia cry incredulously behind him, "Marvin, you're not dressed yet?"

"I was waiting for the stupid centerpieces Whizzer ' _needed_.'" God, he's going to be so pissed when he finds out about the error, and somehow, it'll all be _Marvin's_ fault. As _always_.

"You _need_ to go get ready." Cordelia instructs, practically shoving him out of the main hall.

" _Okay._ Jeez, calm down," Marvin smiles wryly, pointing out, "This isn't my first wedding, you know." He pauses before he finally can't help himself, asking, "Have you seen Whizzer today?"

"I saw him just a second ago. _He's_ already gotten ready," She pauses, amending, "Well, he's still fixing his hair."

"That's perfect," Marvin teases, "That means I have at least three more hours."

Cordelia laughs but still asserts, _"Go."_ Marvin finally appeases to her request, walking back to his private quarters to get changed into his tux.  

For someone as unorthodox as he is, Whizzer sticks to the strangest traditions. This means that despite Marvin's wheedling and protest, he hasn't seen his groom-to-be _all day._ As he slips on his dress shirt and pants, he wonders if Whizzer feels the same vapid butterflies mauling his stomach, if he's just as scared shitless about this entire deal as he is.

Marvin was never this nervous on his first wedding day. He would say he was more _melancholy_ than anxious, draining about a third of the keg all by himself with the excuse that he was drinking for both him and the very sober (and pregnant) Trina. He doesn't remember feeling as nauseous and tongue-tied and _hopeful_ as he does right now.

He accidentally ties his tie crooked, but before he can fix it, there's a knock on the door. Shouting to the person to come on in (and hoping it's Whizzer so they can have a quick screw before the ceremony), he's surprised to find Jason walking in.

Jason takes one look at his tie and rolls his eyes, beckoning him with a wave. Fighting a proud smile, Marvin kneels down to give Jason access, allowing his twelve year old son to fix his tie.

"Whizzer said I should check up on you," Jason says, a trace of smile on his face, "Turns out he was right." 

Marvin rolls his eyes as he straightens back up. Sighing, he turns to look at his reflection in the mirror and desperately tries to shake off his nerves. He catches Jason's critical eye in the mirror, demanding, "What?"

"This one's gonna last right?" Jason asks, only half-jokingly, "I mean, I already have two homes. I can't handle _three."_

Marvin chuckles, "I'm counting on it to last. But hey, if not, look on the bright side: _three_ Hanukahs." Jason rolls his eyes, a habit he has picked up from Marvin and has mastered since.

"You're nervous." Jason notices, watching as Marvin fiddles with his tie.

"No, I'm not." He denies, prompting Jason to scoff.

There's a slight pause before Jason states, "He's nervous, too. If that makes you feel better."

Marvin catches himself grinning in the mirror, having to admit, "It does, actually."

:: - ::

Standing at the altar, Marvin feels his heart threaten to burst from his chest. Glancing around, he sees Charlotte and Cordelia give him subtle thumbs ups. He tries to smile but he feels like if he opens his mouth, he might puke all over his shoes. The piano music starts ringing through the hall, but instead of it sounding like a death march as it once did, it sounds like—well, a promise of tomorrow.

The sight of Whizzer in his crisp white suit takes Marvin's breath away. Whizzer seems equally blown away by his appearance, looking dazed and so incredibly _happy._ Suddenly, all nervousness drips from Marvin's body.

As Whizzer walks his way up to him, the first thing he says is not _You look great_ or _I love you_ or even the simple if not a bit too early _I do._ It's the scathing, "What happened to the blue azaleas?"

And it's so painfully _like_ Whizzer to give him a hard time like that that it makes Marvin want to sob in relief. _Never change,_ he wants to say, but instead he murmurs, "Don't even start."

Whizzer rolls his eyes but nudges his shoulder with his own, letting a sincere smile grace his features. Marvin tries to look stern but he can't fight his own smile. They share one last look before turning to the officiator—before their lives change forever.

:: - ::                               

Marvin and Whizzer lounge at their table, laughing as they watch Mendel practically _drag_ Trina to the dance floor. Their hands are interlocked under the table, their glistening bands signifying not a shackle but a _promise._

At no point in his life did Marvin ever think _this_ would be how his life turned out. He thought he was doomed to play out these _roles_ assigned to him— _her_ loving husband, _his_ omniscient father, this _pillar_ of masculinity. Never in his life did Marvin actually think he could be _happy._ Meeting Whizzer, falling in love with his sharp edges and even sharper smiles, tearing apart his tight-knit family—all completely unexpected (and even unwelcome, at one point) surprises that turned out for the better. 

"The tulips look a whole lot better than the azaleas." Whizzer admits with a shrug. 

"Yeah," He agrees with a small smile, though he isn't talking about the stupid fucking centerpieces, "I think so, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (The flowers were a metaphor, btw. I thought that was clear, but then I read it back and wasn't so sure).   
> Only 3 more days after this. THIS IS ENDING SO SOON. I can't deal.


	27. Day 27 - On One of Their Birthdays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marvin meets someone from Whizzer's past on a special day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in pre-canon times because why not. I felt like this was choppily written and OOC at times, but I was kinda rushed writing it. I still like it though, so enjoy!

"Hey, don't bother me tomorrow, alright?" Whizzer instructs from his position on the bed, watching Marvin painstakingly re-buttons his shirt. 

Marvin pauses with his shirt halfway buttoned, glancing up, "Why?"

"I'm having a _guest_ over." And it's Whizzer's lecherous smile that settles something cold and sour in Marvin's stomach. He doesn't know why Whizzer deliberately reminds him every so often that he screws other guys, as if that _proves_ something. Hell, maybe he's trying to make sure Marvin doesn't get too attached.

Which doesn't make any sense, really. Marvin doesn't think Whizzer is his _boyfriend_ or anything. He already has a _wife,_ after all. A wife, he realizes once he glances at the time, who is going to be _so_ pissed that he's three hours late.

"Well, have fun with that, I guess." Marvin says curtly.

He goes to leave but then Whizzer calls after him, "Hey, Marvin. Stop by Sunday." His voice lacks a questioning lilt, making the request sound more like a demand. Marvin doesn't give him hell about it though. He's too distracted by the thought of Whizzer holed up in this apartment with someone else, kissing and touching and screwing in the very same bed that Marvin just rested in. _It doesn't bother me,_ he tells himself.

"Fine. Have fun with your sex marathon." Marvin says, voice adopting a hard edge, "Try not getting Syphilis this time, huh?" Whizzer throws the nearest object in his reach (a thin book) at his head, but Marvin ducks just in time. He throws Whizzer a smirk as he finally leaves the apartment, ignoring the heavy weight in his gut.

_It doesn't bother me._

:: - ::

 _Of course_ it bothers Marvin. He's purely selfish by nature—has been ever since he was a boy and refused to share any of his toys with the other children.

Because that's what Whizzer is to him, really—a  _toy_ that he plays with from time to time, an object that is solely Marvin's to _bend_ and _snap_ and _break_ if he ever so desired. 

But that's not true, is it? Whizzer isn't _his,_ after all. Whizzer belongs to _no man_ except himself, once telling him as much along with how monogamy is for those who are too prude or ugly to get laid by anyone else. Of course, he might've just said this to get a rise out of Marvin (which is also a likely a possibility), but he has a feeling that Whizzer whole-heartedly means it as well.

As he lays in bed, he listens to Trina's even breathing and tries not to seethe about Whizzer. He's tried not to think about him _at all_ unless he's horny, but these days, even the most ordinary of things spark recollection of the man. He tries hard not to think about what that might mean, turning over and trying to catch some sleep.

:: - :: 

He realizes that he's forgotten his folder of work files at Whizzer's apartment the following morning. Marvin figures he can somehow get some work done without them, but as half the day drags by, he finally decides to swallow his pride and go get them. He waits until his lunch break to drive down to Whizzer's apartment building, flushed and frustrated and in a hurry to catch up on a half-day's miss of productivity (his boss has been looking for any opportunity to bust his chops recently, and he's not looking to give him the chance on a silver platter). Trying to quell the sense of jealousy blooming in his thunderous heart, Marvin travels up to Whizzer's door and knocks. He hears a faint muffled voice from inside before the door opens to reveal—

 _Wow,_ Marvin exclaims silently as he comes face-to-face with an aged woman in her sixties, _I didn't think this was his type._

Her most striking feature that he first notices is her kind eyes, pools of brown that radiant warmth. His scowl immediately drops at the sight of them, replaced with a more mild expression.

"Hello," The woman says with a bemused smile, "May I help you?"

"Uh, is—uh—is Whizzer here?" Marvin sputters, proud of himself for even getting that out of his slacken jaw.

 _"Oh,"_ She exclaims quietly, a sense of understanding coloring her features, "Are you a—"

 _"Marvin?"_ Whizzer says tightly, walking up behind the woman and wearing an expression of quiet rage, _"What_ are you doing here?"

At the familiar sound of Whizzer's pissed off tone, Marvin regains his senses, opening his mouth to bite back a similarly harsh response. The woman cuts in before he can answer, however, smacking Whizzer on the chest with her hand and saying fiercely, "Now that is _not_ how I raised you to speak to people. Jesus, did you forget your manners in this big city?"

All words die in Marvin's mouth, his eyes widening in almost comical shock, " _You're_ his mother?" 

The woman—Whizzer's _mother,_ for fuck's sakes—takes her heated glare off of her son to smile at him, "Surprising, I know. I don't look a day over twenty-five, do I?" She has a faint southern drawl to her dialect, and Marvin desperately tries to place it.

"Did you need something? We were a little busy." Whizzer rips him back to reality, his dirty look mitigated by the sweet old woman standing in front of him.

"I left my paperwork here last night." Marvin tells him, inching closer through the threshold, "I'll grab it and go." The woman pushes Whizzer out of the doorway to give Marvin enough room to slip into the apartment, going to the desk and spotting it instantly. 

Behind him, he hears Whizzer's mother whisper to her son, "So is he your, uh... _special_   _friend?_ " Marvin hopes Whizzer's audible sputter is loud enough to cover his involuntary snicker.

He turns back around and gives them both a winning smile, turning on his charm, "That's all I needed. Thanks." 

"We were just having lunch." Whizzer's mother calls after him as he approaches the door to leave, "Let me fix you a sandwich."

"He probably has to get back to work." Whizzer butts in, and even though Marvin desperately wants to stay here and revel in Whizzer's clear embarrassment, he knows that he's right.

"I have to get all the way across town," Marvin informs her with an apologetic smile, "Maybe next time?" He glances over to the kitchen and finds a store-bought Happy Birthday cake on the kitchen table. His brow furrowing, Marvin takes a step closer and finds a small birthday present beside it, the tag plainly showing the name branded on it.

"It's your birthday?" Marvin whirls back around to Whizzer, becoming genuinely indignant, "Why didn't you tell me? I didn't buy you anything."

"You _just_ bought me that heater, like, two weeks ago," Whizzer points out, picking at his nails, "Consider it an early birthday present."

"That's not a birthday gift. That was so you wouldn't freeze to death." He's completely forgotten Whizzer's mother's present in the room until she clears her throat. Both men turn to look at her.

"I knew that heater looked too expensive for Whizzer," She titters, a wistful glaze in her eye, "He's just like his father. He hated spending money, too." Marvin almost laughs in her face at the last sentence ( _Whizzer?_ Afraid of spending _money?_ Maybe his own, but _Marvin's_ bank statement is testament of otherwise).

"I'll walk you out, Marv." Whizzer takes Marvin by the elbow, leading him forcefully out the door. He barely gets out a goodbye to Whizzer's mother before Whizzer closes the door behind them.

"You planned that," Whizzer accuses, "You left your papers there so you could check up on me."

"The whole world doesn't revolve around _you,"_ Marvin points out, "I didn't commit this intricate plan and risk getting my ass fired just so I could interrupt what you said was a sex marathon with some random guy!"

"I never said that."

"You implied it," Marvin laughs as he adds, "You just didn't want me to meet your mother."

"Of course I didn't. Why would I?" Whizzer groans, "God, now she's gonna hound me for hours about our _'relationship.'"_

"She seemed to like me." Marvin preens, prompting a scoff from Whizzer.

"Leave already," Whizzer shoves him toward the elevator, "Ugh, no matter how hard I try, you just won't leave me alone. You keep showing up like a bad penny." Marvin lets Whizzer hurl insults at him, comfortable with the fact that no matter what Whizzer says to him, Marvin's already bested him.

"No goodbye kiss?" Marvin pouts as Whizzer opens the door to go back inside, "That's no way to treat your _'special friend.'"_ Whizzer flips him off as he storms inside and slams the door shut behind him.

On his ride back to his office, Marvin ponders what to get Whizzer for his birthday.

:: - ::

Whizzer's mother makes it point-five seconds before she starts in, "He's so charming. Handsome, too. He's a little short though."

"And short-tempered, too." Whizzer murmurs under his breath, "Can we just get back to eating please?"  He thought his tone was an indicator of any further discussion of Marvin to be over, but Whizzer's mother brings him up again only a few minutes later.

"So he's a working man," She says, like somehow that's impressive, "And a white collar job, it seems." _He's also married with a kid,_ Whizzer wants to snap, but he bites his tongue. His mother would be disappointed in him for pursuing a married man, and though Whizzer is thirty-eight years old today, he can't stand the thought of disappointing his mother. So he grits his teeth and smiles, tells her all about Marvin's better qualities and leaving out his many flaws.

"I'm so happy you've found someone." His mom says with a huge smile. Whizzer matches her smile, though on the inside, he just feels hollow and numb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAJOR ANNOUCEMENT: I'm going out of town for the weekend, so I will not be able to post a chapter Saturday nor Sunday. I'll start posting again on the following Monday, and to make up for the delay, I'll try to make them extra long and good. These last few one shots have been really short and rushed because I've been writing them literally in thirty minutes and then posting right away, but I won't do that for these last few ones.   
> Sorry for the inconvenience!


	28. Day 28 - Doing Something Ridiculous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A pie eating contest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I lied about starting to post again on Monday, BUT I decided to remedy that wrong by posting all three final chapters today. So hopefully that patches up all if any hurt feelings?

"You guys don't need to do this," Cordelia reminds them for the umpteenth time, looking increasingly distressed and disgruntled at the turn of events, "I just want to know which one tastes better—cherry with sugar or cherry with brown sugar."

Marvin and Whizzer ignore her attempts at ending this contest. Instead, they focus on Jason tying each one's hands together behind their backs.

"Make his extra tight." Whizzer mouths to Jason, winking conspiracily at him.

"No cheating." Marvin asserts, casting Whizzer a dark look. 

Whizzer scoffs, undeterred by the icy glare, "Yeah, you're right. It's better for when I beat you that you can't blame it on anything else."

His eyes narrow, " _When,_  is it?"

Whizzer smirks, confirming, "Yes,  _when._ "

Marvin straightens his posture, "I guess we'll see then."

"You should've cooked hotdogs," Whizzer tells Cordelia, though his eyes are trained on Marvin, "Then maybe Marvin would actually have a chance at winning."

"No dick jokes, okay?" Cordelia stresses, "There is a  _child_  present."

"Let's just get started." Jason stands in front of the table next to Cordelia, holding a stopwatch in his hand, "Ready...set...go!"

Both men fall face-first into their pie, covering their faces in the jam as they hurry to lick the tin clean. Whizzer finishes first, prompting Jason to slide the second pie to him. Marvin finishes just a few seconds after him, but when Jason slides the second pie to Marvin, the man doubles his speed.

"Finished!" Marvin gasps out with a mouthful of pie. Whizzer looks up and boggles at the sight.

"Yay, Dad. I'm so proud of you," Jason says dryly with an eye roll, "Can I go back to my English homework now?"

"No hug from your old man?" 

Jason's nose wrinkles in disgust, "I don't want to stain my shirt."

"Yeah, you look like an extra from a horror movie." Whizzer adds, though he doesn't look any better. He seems a little disgruntled at the loss, but the pieces of crust hanging on the corner of his mouth makes Marvin laugh rather than gloat.

"Come here." Marvin pulls Whizzer by the collar and kisses him, prompting over-exaggerated exclamations of disgust from Cordelia and Jason.

"So what do I win?" Marvin asks him lowly.

Whizzer rolls his eyes, but a trace of a smile is poised on his pouting lips, "Four extra pounds. Congratulations."

"I'm sure we could find a way to burn off the calories." Marvin replies with a smirk.

Whizzer smiles, "I think I have an idea."

:: - ::

"I hate you." Marvin pants, forcing Whizzer to come to a stop as he leans on a sturdy oak tree and gasps for breath.

Whizzer, dressed in his running gear and has barely broken a sweat, looks unimpressed, "Come on, Marv, we gotta burn those calories some way." He pulls an innocent face, "What other way did you have in mind?"

"You," He thrusts a finger at the man, "Are evil. And a sore loser."

"You," Whizzer walks over and places his hands beside each side of Marvin's head, pinning him to the tree, "Are lazy. And a whiner."

Marvin leans forward to mash their lips together, but Whizzer bats him away and leans back, "We have three more miles."

"Remind me again what I see in you." Marvin wonders aloud.

"Beats me." But Whizzer licks his lips slow and deliberate, enunciating his pretty pink mouth, and Marvin thinks,  _Oh yeah, that._

Ignoring Whizzer's superior expression, Marvin pushes himself off of the tree and sighs, "Three more miles? No problem." He feels like these words might be his final ones.

But Whizzer smiles at him, sincere and soft, and Marvin supposes that there are worse ways to die.


	29. Day 29 - Doing Something Sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After his death, Marvin goes through all of Whizzer's stuff in the apartment and comes across a devastating surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be sweet, but it turned really sad somehow.

It takes an entire year after Whizzer dies for Marvin to finally start packing up his things in the apartment. The reminders—scattered clothes on the floor, scribbled notes, empty bottles of beer—have been like land mines, with one lingering glance in their direction causing Marvin to implode within himself and stay locked in his room for an entire day.  _It isn't healthy,_ Charlotte had advised him,  _this doesn't mean you're forgetting what happened. It means you're moving on._ But Marvin doesn't  _want_  to move on—he wants his life to stay suspended in one moment; he wants the rest of the world to take a breather while he mends his wounds and bemoan the loss of the love of his life.

But life has always had a tendency of screwing you over and expecting you to take it in stride. The world continues around you, life goes on, and no one cares that you're broken. They expect you to have already started piecing yourself back together by now.

Marvin collects all of Whizzer's pristine clothes carefully, having already been convinced by Mendel to drop it off at the local donation center. He keeps a few shirts and sweatshirts that still smell vaguely of him, presses it close to his nose and just _breathes._ He stores every piece of paper scribbled on by Whizzer in a shoebox to file under his bed. He packs away the dozens and dozens of film and cameras that litter the bedroom. He'll give the cameras to Jason, but he'll keep the film for himself to look through when he feels strong enough.

It's when he's sifting through the bedroom’s second closet that only Whizzer used that he finds it. Shoved under piles and piles of clothes, Marvin finds a photo album. Curious, he pulls it out and sits on the corner of the bed, flipping it over and discovering the words 'Love is Blind' written in a familiar scrawl on the front. A sob rises in his chest, but he quickly smothers it.

Reverently, he flips through the pages, finding picture after picture of...Marvin. Some of which date back from before Marvin had even gotten divorced. On the back of each photograph, Whizzer has inscribed notes that tell the time and place of which these were taken. As he continues, he sees himself aging, the lines around his eyes become deeper. Most of the pictures are just of Marvin by himself (and some are a bit obscene; he'll have to take those out if he ever lets anyone else see this), but many are of him surrounded by their friends and family—Trina, Mendel, Cordelia, Charlotte, and Jason all make detailed appearances in the album. 

Several pictures are of him and Whizzer, but Marvin can't stand to look at those long enough to describe them. 

The photo album wasn't finished, about a third of it being empty. Marvin doesn't know why until he sees a note inscribed on the very last page.

_Happy Birthday, Old Man. Thought you could look at this and be reminded of your glory days._

It was for Marvin's birthday—a birthday that came and went with little significance. Two months before his birthday, Whizzer became sick and—

Marvin realizes he never got to finish the present.

Marvin doesn't finish packing that day. Instead, he gets a bottle of whiskey, stretches out on the bed, and looks through the photographs until he lulls himself to sleep.

In his dreams, Whizzer is standing there in glowing white, a hand outstretched towards him. Marvin lets himself be pulled into a hug, buries his face in the other's shoulder and pretends everything will be alright.


	30. Day 30 - Doing Something Hot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amid a heatwave, Whizzer and Marvin try to think of some ways to stay cool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter!!!!! Can you believe it? It feels like only a week ago, I started this challenge. I just want to say thank you to all those that have stuck around and read these chapters. I'm glad so many people have read and liked this story because I had a blast writing it. THANK YOU!!
> 
> WARNING: This isn't explicit, but DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU ARE TWELVE.

If anyone needed proof that God hates queers, Whizzer would point to the fact that his air conditioner decided to quit working just as a heatwave attacked New York City.

Whizzer, now stripped down to nothing but his briefs, opens his refrigerator and sticks his head inside, breathing in the cold air and pretending he was in some winter wonderland. He doesn't bother to check his hair, already knowing that it's probably grown three times the size since he checked last time. Fuck, when is Marvin getting back?

As if on cue, Marvin enters the apartment, immediately shucking off his clothes as soon as he shuts the door behind him. Whizzer feels a bubble of hope in his chest before it quickly bursts, his eyes narrowing, " _Where_ is the air conditioner?"

"Everywhere is sold out," Marvin tells him, disgruntled, "They put me on back order. We'll have to wait at least two more days."

"I'll be dead by then." Whizzer bemoans, the sweat coating his body like a fur coat.

"Quit being so dramatic," Marvin rolls his eyes and gestures to the three pound bag of ice by his feet, "At least I got this."

"What are we gonna do with that?" Whizzer points out, "Spoon it until it melts in our bed?"

"I was thinking ice bath," Marvin says, "But I guess we could go with your ‘brilliant’ idea."

Whizzer shamelessly strips off his underwear and makes his way to the bathroom, "What are we waiting for? Let's go."

Minutes later, as soon as Whizzer steps into the icy waters, he feels instant relief. The frigid water cools off his molten skin and embraces him in its wet, chilled glory. Marvin slips in after him, slotting his body between Whizzer's legs and leaning back against his chest. They stay like this in peaceful silence before Marvin can't seem to take it anymore, bragging, "Did I have the best idea or what?"

"I'd prefer long-term relief like with an  _air conditioner,"_  Whizzer responds before admitting, "But this isn't so bad."

"Soak it all in," Marvin advises, "It won't last that long."

"Well," Under the water, Whizzer inches his hand up Marvin's thigh, "I think I've realized a means of distraction from the heat then."

"Really?" Marvin chokes, and though his skin is cooling off, Whizzer's lower body is burning all of a sudden. Forgoing a response, Whizzer bites his ear and starts trailing kisses along the length of his neck. Marvin preens under the attention, sticking his neck out farther for Whizzer to continue. As he mouths at the bolt of Marvin's jaw, Whizzer kneads his chest, pressing and caressing and pinching at the muscle and eliciting a string of groans from the man. 

"Whizzer," He mutters, like a blessing, like a curse, like a prayer, "Whizzer, Whizzer, Whizzer..." Letting his hands wander lower, Whizzer turns his head and captures Marvin's lips with his own, relishing how the man groans and buckles under his expert fingers. Marvin entangles a hand in Whizzer's mess of hair, pulling the strands and gasping into his mouth every time Whizzer flicks his wrist just right. Before Whizzer can finish him off, Marvin pushes his hands away, gasping, "You'll ruin the bath. We can do this later."

Whizzer knows he's right, but he still pulls Marvin close and bites his shoulder. Allowing both men to catch their breaths, they return to the peaceful stillness of the cool water, the silence of the room disturbed only by the rapid beats of their passion-fueled hearts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HUGE THANKS TO ALL THOSE WHO HAVE LEFT A COMMENT. I read every single one and they have all made this story possible. Feedback is so important to me, and the fact that many have commented more than once to tell me how much they've liked this story has meant the world, tbh.   
> This fic took time and effort, and while I'm sorta glad it's over so I don't have to deal with the pressure of daily updates, I will miss it. I have other one-shots and chaptered fics in the works now, so be on the look out for those.

**Author's Note:**

> HEY, YOU SHOULD TOTALLY COMMENT AND ASSURE ME THAT YOU DON'T HATE THIS.  
> (Kudos and such works too, but I really enjoy reading your feedback).


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